


Carry Me Home

by Half_SubmergedinPurgatory



Series: Carry Me Home [1]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Anxiety, Asexual Hide, Depression, Hide is a lil bit yandere tbh, M/M, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Mentions of homophobia, PTSD, Piercings, Queer platonic life partners Hide and Kaneki, Sexual Content, Therapy, Torture, Verbal Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:10:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 142,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2601437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Half_SubmergedinPurgatory/pseuds/Half_SubmergedinPurgatory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amon Koutarou winds up running into post-torture Kaneki Ken during the Aogiri raid. This key change in the gen events might turn a tragedy into a something a little happier.</p><p>(Canon Divergence)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To eat is to live.

“Rest now. Leave it to us, Kaneki-kun.”

  
Uta had said. That had been some time ago, Kaneki wasn’t sure how long anymore. He had knelt then, strength leaving him as his thoughts raced. His back was to the fallen, Nishiki and Touka, as he faced the entryway. While Kaneki was in another place mentally, physically he guarded their exhausted bodies.   
  
  
His fingers twitched rhythmically as he engaged in a mental battle. The ground he saw before him was not the cold grey concrete of reality. Instead it was nearly brown with dried blood, flakes of which floated in the air. He watched as a reddish cloud burst forth, stirred by the boots of a hazy Aogiri Tree member.   
  
  
Kaneki struck out at a masked ghoul, hissing quietly as his fist soared through maroon smoke and struck nothing. Another ghoul rose from the floor and he launched himself forward. It also melted into the air, more phantoms taking its place. Kaneki felt a distant blankness, a dream-like sensation in his limbs, that told him he was not actually moving.  
  


The standstill agitated him. Why couldn’t he move in reality? Was he not fighting? Exhaustion clambered up his limbs as his back was developing a bone-deep ache. He struggled against it, striving to...to what?   
  
  
_**Who did he want to save?**_ Not himself, of that he was certain. Yomo and Uta then? Ah. That was right; they had gone to fight alone. At this thought his phantom opponent became Noro. Kaneki eyed him warily through the clamour of his thoughts. _**Did they need saving?**_ Should he be fighting Noro in their place?  
  


No, he was weak. Humans were weak.  
  


His kagune stretched outwards from his back, slashing away a blow from Noro, a reminder of his “humanity”. _**Kaneki was a ghoul.**_ He could hold his own in battle; Yomo had instructed him and Uta had given him anonymity. Still, _**he had seen both of them eat.**_ That meant they were strong.   
  
  
Noro shivered out of existence, leaving Kaneki to gaze unseeingly at the greying floor. _**Who needed him then?**_ Kaneki was resolved to fight, determined to protect, to see them all to safety. That resolve had moved him through the pain of shattered bones and his fraying mind. It had bound him together.   
  
  
Now there was no need for fighting and Uta’s words had rent him to bits. Reality was seeping in at the corners of crimson vision, turning it bleak and grey while his enemies dissolved into cracks in the concrete. _**He was alone.**_

 

-POV Change-

 

Amon was gradually growing more tense. Though he knew his superiors were strong and did not need his protection, it felt wrong to leave the fight to them. Owl was an extremely powerful opponent and had seemed exceptionally determined to block the CCG’s passage. He ground his teeth, his jaw bone straining against his skin.  
  
  
Amon caught some of the nervous glances the other investigators were sending him and tried to relax his tense posture. He was boiling over with the resolution to keep everyone in sight _**safe**_. It agitated him that he was _**abandoning**_ Shinohara like he had Mado.  
  


His teeth creaked and he squeezed his eyes shut. Shinohara would not die. If he did, it would not be Amon’s fault. He was doing his duty at the moment, seeking out Suzuya and clearing out the remaining ghouls.   
  
  
Amon’s fingers still twitched for his quinque though, and he had to acknowledge that he was a distraction right now. The investigators flanking him were flicking their focus to him every few moments, keeping watch. At this rate his presence would be detrimental to their survival, not beneficial. They were nearing the end of building 7 and hadn’t seen any ghouls since Owl. Quickly making up his mind, Amon lengthened his pace and stopped in front of his peers.

  
“It would seem that the ghouls have either fled or are in hiding. I propose two teams double back and thoroughly investigate the area. I will press forward to the detached building and retrieve Suzuya.”

  
He said, scanning the investigators faces for any sign of dissent. Seeing none, he gave a sharp nod to the others and separated them into teams of three. Finally, he instructed them to fan out around the building after completing their searches to await further orders. His muscles were bunching and coiling, adrenaline rushing through his veins as he headed outside.  
  


Suzuya had been disturbingly thorough during their journey to the outbuilding. There wasn’t a living creature in sight. Ghoul corpses weren’t the only things littering Amon’s path. Carefully, he averted his eyes from an eviscerated rabbit. It was a little surprising that something like that could still make him green around the gills.  
  
  
His tension was still mounting however, and he was ready for a fight the second he wrenched open the door. He quickly stepped inside, pulling the door shut behind him, not taking his eyes off of the scene in front of him.  
  
  
Suzuya was dragging the corpse of Jason towards him, one skinny hand wrapped like a shackle around his ankle. Jason’s kagune was limply sliding over the floor, sweeping through chunks of a similar substance. Suzuya began grinning madly upon making eye contact with Amon and picked up their pace.   
  
  
Amon watched in absolute horror as Suzuya began yelling something and kicked a bucket out of their way. Fingers, toes, and tongues flowed out in a macabre waterfall, spreading across the floor on a pool of fresh blood.  
  


Buzzing blocked Amon’s ears as he noticed the appendages were all the same size, the same colour, symmetrical in an impossible way. They had all belonged to the same person ( _no, people can’t...this is regeneration. These came from a ghoul_ ) who had clearly been tortured. His breath quickened as his wide-eyed gaze took in the rest of the room.   
  
  
The blood spray drenching the walls, the bone fragments littering the ground, the bodies curled around each other in the corner ( _oh Lord, was that a child?_ ), the splintered chair and the warped handcuffs sprawled on the ground next to a whole host of surgical equipment. The bits of Jason’s kagune were tossed throughout the scene like shrapnel. Finally, there was a piece of a brilliant red rinkaku, achingly familiar, laying in the center of the room.  
  
  
At the sight of it, Amon’s pulse rate steadily rose and the buzzing in his ears became a clanging. Something about the limb had raised all kinds of alarm bells in him. He felt the need to move, to leave the torture chamber, to act on the sense of purpose reaching an apex inside of him. Just as an animalistic growl escaped him, Amon felt a hand grasp his own. Before he could snap at the threat, he felt the tug of thread against his skin.

  
“Suzuya...”

  
He breathed out, remembering his purpose.

  
“Amon-san! How do I cut out his kakuhou? I killed him, so it’s mine, right?”

  
Suzuya babbled, excitedly waving their gore-coated hands towards Jason’s corpse. Amon considered the body critically. Seeing it earlier, he had thought it was too damaged to bother with, but appraising it now... a strange blackness was pressing down on his lungs.   
  
  
Why shouldn’t Suzuya cut it open, even if it was only for practice? They would want to access the kakuhou again, he was sure of that. This bastard would have no respite in death. Evil things go to Hell.   
  
  
Remembering watching Mado claim many prizes in the past, Amon began to instruct his student.  
  


After ordering Suzuya to guard the door to building 7, Amon had left the teenager to their task. A sense of unease fluttered in his chest and the drive to _**do something**_ and _**protect someone**_ flooded his brain.   
  
  
He was at odds with himself, stepping out the door of the outbuilding and heading towards the basement of building 7. He was going against his previous plan, leaving his subordinates in potentially precarious positions on the floors above, and walking into unknown territory alone. He did not know if the basement had been cleared out. He should take someone with him.  
  
  
The compulsion to go immediately did not leave him yet, and he could not disobey his instinct. Mado had wanted him to follow through with his hunches. He had repeatedly beat it into Amon’s head that acting on instinct could save precious seconds, could save lives. Mado fought by instinct, hunted by it, identified ghouls by the tugging he felt in his mind.   
  
  
They had worked well together because Amon had felt it too; it had demanded his attention since he searched out the Father on that day. He still felt he was forsaking the CCG whenever he ignored orders, however.   
  
  
At this, the thought of Eyepatch flickered through his mind ( _if he'd done his job right...if he'd killed him..._ ). Perhaps their mission was flawed. He could let some ghouls escape if it meant recovering an innocent. His mercy would not be bested by a ghoul. By a monster ( _could all monsters cry like that?_ ). Going this route would not be a sin.   
  
  
Amon continued onwards towards the basement.  

 

-POV Change-

 

Kaneki’s stained fingernails dug into the rags on his chest. He pressed them into his skin, gripping at his heart. He had hurt so many people and had been so heavily wounded. The taste of ghoul meat and the leather of his mask filled his mouth. Everything was catching up to him and it felt like being crushed by a bus.   
  
  
Footsteps suddenly sounded, purposeful and heavy, against the stairs to his left. In his desperation to escape his thoughts, he threw himself at the intruder without a second thought, ready to disarm and incapacitate. The Dove swiftly sidestepped him, activating his quinque within moments. Kaneki’s gaze zeroed in on it immediately.  
  
  
He must protect Touka and Nishiki, **_this man was a threat_**. Unzipping his mask deftly while sprinting between the intruder and his friends, Kaneki rasped out:

  
“Nishiki! Take Touka and run!”

  
While keeping one eye on the investigator, Kaneki reached out with his kagune towards Nishiki, who was struggling to his feet next to Touka’s unconscious form. He brushed against Nishiki’s arm with a tentacle, unfurling it at shoulder height. Nishiki levered himself up using it for support for a moment.   
  
  
Once Kaneki was sure Nishiki could stand alone, he widened his rinkaku outwards, shielding them from view. Now he settled his full scrutiny onto Amon as recognition dawned upon him. 

 

-POV Change-

 

 Amon had been attacked the second he had stepped through the entry way and did not have any time to identify his enemy. He moved on autopilot, unsheathing Mado’s quinque and preparing to defend himself. His assailant had skittered away from him then, moving towards the heap near the back of the building. He only managed to take in the features of the ghoul when they had began helping two others up.  
  
  
Amon’s thought process was briefly short-circuited when he noticed the half-mask: a black leather eye-covering and pristine white teeth embedded in blood red gums. The ghoul he had hurtled into was Eyepatch ( _and he looked awful_ ). Before he could get himself back on track ( _Attack? Defend? Retreat?_ ), Eyepatch looked straight at him, expanding his rinkaku outwards like a peacock’s tail while his kakugan shone in a decidedly threatening fashion.   
  
  
The weight that look was stomach-turning. The regard was chilling, but the intent was lukewarm, giving the impression of a feral animal torn between simply intimidating or devouring you. A flicker of fear caused his fists to clench around his quinque.   

 

-POV Change-

 

Recognition was quickly overridden by instinct when Kaneki registered the tightening of the familiar investigator's hands. He was an investigator and he was standing in the doorway. Nishiki and Touka could not escape in any other direction. Kaneki would have to fight. He would protect everyone.

  

  -POV Change-  

 

Amon’s intuition was going haywire. The second he had grasp his quinque harder he felt like he needed to let go. He felt like he needed to protect someone and protect himself all at once. Eyepatch looked like he’d been through a meat-grinder and his hair had gone chalk white. He wanted to find out what had happened to the guy ( _he wasn't sure that he didn't know_ ) but Eyepatch still seemed strong enough to bowl him over.   
  
  
It looked like helping Eyepatch was sinking to the bottom of his list fast however, as his moment of terror had not gone unseen. The ghoul’s kagune flexed and suddenly he found himself looking right into Eyepatch’s kakugan ( _when did he!?_ ). Though the red and black eye was completely serene, Amon was sent hurtling into a wall with force that bespoke some serious commitment.   
  
  
Wheezing, Amon rose to his feet while Eyepatch swept the other two ghouls out of the room. The girl ( _she looked like someone he knew..._ ), awake now, called out to him in distress:

  
“Baka-neki, come with us!”

  
Eyepatch rushed him, using his kagune to grip the supports on the ceiling and swing out of the way of his quinque, filling him with relief as well as fear, and unzipped his mask.

  
“Don’t worry about me. It isn’t safe, get out of here.”

  
He said, voice even and cold, only betraying the slightest hint of concern. All the distress Eyepatch had portrayed in their last fight had disappeared. The other ghouls disappeared from sight and Amon was quickly cornered. Eyepatch’s rinkaku wrapped like a vice around his quinque, wringing it out of his hand. In a heartbeat, Eyepatch had retreated some distance and was bending his weapon.   
  
  
When he heard the steel groan under the strain, Amon was overcome with panic. Harima’s memento had been broken already and now Mado’s was following quickly. They were the only things that had been left to him and the only things investigator’s could really pass onto their progeny. Thinking this, he called out

  
_**“DON’T!”** _

 

  Eyepatch gave him a glacial once over. Amon’s hand was outstretched towards him, his expression pleading. As Amon watched, Eyepatch’s kagune sagged and his expression once again matched the memories that haunted his waking hours. He tossed Amon’s quinque far away ( _gently enough that it stayed in one piece_ ).   
  
  
Then, when the quinque hit the floor, so did Eyepatch. He pitched forward and sank to his knees, tears streaming down his face and flowing under his mask. Through the muffled sobs Amon could make out strained and painful words;

  
“Yamori, you bastard! Why did I...why did it have to me? _Ithurtsithurtsitallhurtssomuch. I didn’t want to be a **monster**! Oh mother, I’m so fucked up._ ”

  
Then, voice rising,

  
_**“I don’t want to be alone!!”** _

  
and a whimper,

  
“Bad luck bad luck, everyone... _ **I couldn’t save anyone**_ ”.

  
Amon’s heart plunged into his stomach. He knew who had been imprisoned in Jason’s torture chamber. God, the crying ghoul was like a spectre from his childhood. When he had been young enough to depend on people and old enough to know betrayal when he saw it, Father had eaten his siblings but spared his life, making him into something _**less than human**_ ( _I didn't want to be a monster_ ).   
  
  
When his instincts tugged at him again, Amon followed the pull without a second thought.


	2. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaneki discovers comfort and Amon's sanity begins to dwindle.

Kaneki was overcome with exhaustion, pain, and despair. Finally, someone looked at him like the monster he was. Kaneki’s world kept invading this man’s, tearing pieces of it apart. _**This world is wrong**_ was a statement he was forced to agree with.   
  
  
Touka had killed his partner, Kaneki had destroyed his weapons and had ground his weakness into his face, taking away his sense of security and bringing him _**fear**_. When he had cried out, Kaneki noticed how little of a fight he put up, how distressed he was, and he had felt a flicker of satisfaction at how weak humans were ( _disgusting_ ). He had been pleased that he was strong enough that an investigator had to _**ask**_ him for something.  
  
  
That feeling was quickly overcome with sickness as he noticed the bend of his finger, clearly broken ( _just like Yamori, nonoNO_ ), accompanied by the wave of undistilled human emotion churning through him. Everything he has said to the investigator before, everything he believed; they had been swept away by his new resolve.   
  
  
Yamori’s ideals ( _the strong **eat** , Kaneki-kun_) had encroached on them.  _ **To gain something, something else must first be lost.**_ It was the law of equivalent exchange.  
  
  
Kaneki understood what he would have to do to move forward. His limits prevented anything else. He would become an _**anti-hero, the hanged man, and a twisted caretaker**_ in his own personal tragedy. There was no one who could save him from himself. He was alone.    
  


His thoughts ground to a halt as he was abruptly scooped up from the floor. The ghoul in Kaneki railed against being touched for a moment, gearing up for another battle ( _I can’t I can’t I can’t_ ) as his kagune wrapped around the investigator, his captor, suffocatingly enough that he could hear the man’s bones creak.   
  
  
The scent of a human entered his nose though, quelling Kaneki’s inner monster. Yes, _**h** **umans were weak**_. This one was unarmed and harmless. His kagune quivered and dissolved at the thought, retreating into his back.  
  
  
Still, he was scared ( _whywhyWHY_ ) and pushed violently against the investigators chest as he felt the man begin to move. The Dove strode quickly across the room, depositing him in front of a wall. Terror began to make its way up Kaneki’s throat while his eyes darted around the room, cataloguing every exit and strategic maneuver he could use to escape.  
  
  
His thoughts was cut off however, as the man’s gigantic shoulders filled his line of sight. His arms were placed on either side of Kaneki’s head and the solid lines of his body were the only things Kaneki could see. The investigator had created a warm enclosed space in which only they existed.   
  
  
Kaneki’s remaining fears began to calm as he took comfort in the bizarre embrace. As he relaxed, the man leaned progressively closer, pressing into him. When every single piece of him was covered, Kaneki felt a rumble pass through the man’s torso at the same time he heard his deep voice.

  
 “I’ll watch over you. _**Rest now, fight later**_.”

  
Finally, Kaneki let himself go.

 

-POV Change-

 

Eyepatch wept into Amon’s chest, clinging to him for dear life. He had to wonder if he was insane, holding onto the ghoul with equal ferocity. He found he couldn’t let go; no matter how he struggled internally, his external self was going to guard the tiny thing in front of him.   
  
  
The ghoul was _**so small**_. He’d gotten even smaller since the last time Amon had seen him. He could feel every bone in Eyepatch’s body when he was pressed against him like this.   
  
  
Amon hunched his shoulders inwards, lowering his chin onto the curve of Eyepatch’s head. The ghoul’s eyelashes flickered wetly against the sensitive skin of his throat and his hair felt stiff and greasy as it rubbed against Amon’s jaw.   
  
  
How long has Eyepatch been here? If he were to hazard a guess ( _based on that unmentionable bucket_ ) it would have been weeks. He would’ve had to...heal between... _sessions_.  
  


A shiver rippled through Amon’s spine and he rubbed his nose into Eyepatch’s dirty hair, inhaling suddenly and sharply. A surge of emotion had tightened his throat and was making it hard to breathe.   
  
  
He had to remain calm. The ghoul was alive and that was what mattered. Amon couldn’t lose himself in the past ( _so many people have died, so many people he could’ve saved_ ).   
  
  
Ever since that first fight he had hoped this guy would survive. Amon had wanted to ask him so many questions ( _how do you see this world?_ ). He’d thought them over constantly, new ones appearing in the middle of the night or as he trained. He’d written them down somewhere ( _he couldn’t remember now)_ along with all the things he wanted to say to the ghoul.  
  
  
He still had to lay down judgement on Eyepatch; tell him stories of death and despair caused by ghouls. But that could wait ( _all he could remember right now were stories about his coworkers and his day anyway_ ). Amon knew what loss looked like. The burden of responsibility was a familiar weight and the fear of failure constantly shook his heart. Right now Amon had a debt to repay ( _to his past and to Eyepatch_ ).  
  


The wet wailing that spilled from Eyepatch’s mouth, muffled as it was by his body and Eyepatch’s mask, sounded like it came from a lost child. It stirred up memories for Amon. Unpleasant memories.   
  
  
When Amon’s life had first fallen apart, he had not cried like Eyepatch. It was long afterwards, when he had joined the academy that he wept. At the time he was so horribly alone. He had longed for _**Father’s**_ comfort.   
  
  
_**Father**_ had always picked up the children when they cried, wrapping his arms around them and blocking out the world. He would whisper sermons to them, reminding each child of their place in the kingdom of God. Death was not to be feared, pain would pass, they were loved, and he would shoulder their burdens by their side ( _those same words would not leave Amon’s lips, no matter how he burned to comfort the crying person in his arms. He would never be so presumptuous as to assume Eyepatch’s faith_ ). His longing had repulsed him, making his tears dry up.  
  
  
Thinking of _**Father**_ reignited the flames of his resolve each time, washing away his feelings and making him _**something a little less than human**_. Amon knew he could not have been human and survived. His duty would have suffocated him one day and he would have hated himself if he did not seek revenge.   
  
  
Still, Amon eventually became _**human-like**_ through sharing his burdens. He fiercely believed that the support of the Academy had saved his life. Eyepatch’s sobs were steadily growing quieter. His hands had begun to flex against Amon’s ribs in time with his heartbeat, creating a soothing rhythm.   
  
  
Coming away from the past, Amon’s hands copied Eyepatch’s, fluttering against his sides. 

  
“This isn’t all there is.”  

  
Amon mumbled into Eyepatch’s hair. The little ghoul pressed his face deeper into Amon’s chest in response. Though he wasn’t sure if Eyepatch was listening, Amon continued.  

  
“This is all you can do for now.”

  
 He felt the zipper of Eyepatch’s mask scrape left across his breastbone, then right.

  
 “Get stronger and choose another path.” 

  
Amon finished, trailing off. His own words had cause his stomach to squirm with unease ( _he could’ve done more for them..._ ). He felt Eyepatch’s arms snake around his shoulders. In response, he laced his fingers under Eyepatch’s hips, supporting him off the floor.   
  
  
The new weight grounded him, ghosts of his past dissipating alongside his distress completely. Eyepatch drew in a long breath and sighed against his neck. The puff of air cooled his sweaty skin and rose goosebumps all over his body.   
  
  
Amon wondered if he had been partially speaking to himself. He was no longer sure his path was righteous. _**This world was wrong**_ , he was certain about that. However, he had begun to doubt that ghouls alone were making it so.  
  
  
Eyepatch’s narrow legs wrapped around his waist as he inhaled deeply again, squeezing Amon with his thighs. Amon shivered when the cold metal of Eyepatch’s mask brushed his neck briefly.   
  
  
He felt the ghoul shift suddenly, the tightening of one of his arms accompanied by the sound of something unzipping. The ghoul’s arm relaxed again and he pressed his face into Amon’s neck, lips moving against his skin in a way that really should have frightened him ( _instead he felt unbearably warm_ ). 

  
“What is your name, investigator?” 

   
Right as he opened his mouth to answer, Amon heard the clatter of leather shoes on the stairs.   
  
  
He cursed softly, shifting all of the ghoul’s weight onto his left arm and freeing his right. His shoulder was pulled earthwards in a painful fashion but Amon tried to maintain a relaxed demeanor. He’d have to shift Eyepatch into a less visible position quickly and think of an excuse for his pose.   
  
  
Amon used his right hand to unhook the ghoul’s legs from around his body, shifting him into a half-formed fetal position. He quickly followed up with Eyepatch’s arms, tucking him into a tight ball. Tight-lipped, he passed the ball from his left arm to his right, turning as he did so.

  
His back was now facing Eyepatch ( _who was rather uncomfortably pressed into wall_ ). Amon felt bad about the aches he was likely causing the ghoul, but he also felt a little thrill of triumph at how effective his concealment was. The tiny guy was completely obscured by his body. He could also face the entryway, identifying and assessing whoever entered.  
  
  
Amon jerked out of his musing in surprise however, when cold hands slid up underneath his jacket. Eyepatch had unraveled his arms and encircled Amon’s neck with them. His limbs were neatly tucked underneath Amon’s jacket’s collar, creating a bulge that would be visible up close.   
  
  
Amon was about to ask that Eyepatch hide himself when he felt the downward drag from his grip. When he felt the warmth of Eyepatch’s forehead pressed between his shoulders, Amon found he couldn’t begrudge him the comfort ( _even if it got them caught...he enjoyed carrying Eyepatch around like he weighed nothing_ ).

   
The clattering paused near the opening into the room. Amon nearly laughed at the show of caution from a person who had announced their arrival meters away. A familiar face appeared from around the wall. The squad he had commanded earlier must be looking for him. The CCG member’s eyes scanned the room, lighting up when they landed on him.  

 

“Amon-san! This is where you were?”

 

 Amon’s shoulders shook a bit when Eyepatch laughed quietly into his back. He was beginning to wonder if the ghoul had any self-preservation instincts outside of battle. There was a beat of silence in which the CCG soldier strode into the room without checking his surroundings ( _ugh, as if Amon’s presence meant that the place was completely clear. He’d make sure this one went over some drills later_ ) and gave him a curious look. 

  
“What are you doing here, Amon-san?”

  
 Amon was ready for the question and answered immediately,

  
 “Ah, I engaged a ghoul earlier and my quinque was knocked away. I’m just catching my breath.”

  
 The soldier’s expression twisted into something hopeful as he brightly offered,

  
 “I’ll help you look for it! We just got an order to pull out of here. No more ghouls means that I have some time.”

  
 Abruptly, the CCG member’s face went pale,  

  
“Ah! We only left our posts after we heard the ghouls had left, Amon-san! We also swept the perimeter an additional time to be sure.”

  
 Amon huffed out a dry chuckle and felt the arms over his shoulders quake again. The solider made a good choice by telling him that. If he had learned that they simply abandoned their posts and left...he’d’ve made sure they were drilled for weeks. They were approaching Amon quickly now, intent on giving him a shoulder to lean on. Thinking quickly, Amon protested,

  
 “Follow your orders and meet up with the task force outside. Radio me the details of the retreat when you get there. It could be important.” 

  
The CCG member recoiled as if struck, shamefaced. Amon winced a bit internally. He hadn’t meant to be so blunt.  

  
“Of course, Amon-san. I don’t know what I was thinking. Hopefully you find your quinque soon. I know how much it means to you.” 

  
He blabbered, retreating backwards out of the room, waving his hand in apology.  
  


After the soldier was out of sight, Amon heaved a huge sigh of relief, reaching his arms backwards to support Eyepatch’s weight yet again. After the ghoul unfurled himself into Amon’s arms, Amon knelt on the ground.   
  
  
He deposited Eyepatch carefully onto the cracked concrete before turning to check on him. Unexpectedly, his worried gaze was met head on with a grey eye glinting with mirth. Amon frowned a little in question, face stiffening in unexpected discomfort.

  
 “What?”

  
He demanded shortly. He could see Eyepatch’s smile now through his unzipped mask. It was only a little quirk of the lips, though it felt to Amon like a full blown grin.

   
“Your name. You didn’t answer me.”

  
 Eyepatch glanced up at him from under his eyelashes ( _they were long and dark, like a girl’s_ ),  

  
“Haha...your friend just burst in and announced it instead.”

  
 Wow. Amon felt twin pricks of heat blooming in the tips of his ears as Eyepatch spoke. His voice was warm and the way he spoke was delicate and fumbling. And _**gentle**_. Just like he remembered it.   
  
  
Was Eyepatch trying not to embarrass him too badly? If so, he was doing a terrible job, because now Amon was embarrassed for an entirely different reason. The ghoul eyed his frozen expression and toed at his shin softly. Stifling a chortle, Eyepatch imitated the soldier, calling 

  
“Amon-san!”

  
In a sparkling tone of awe. Amon’s ears burned horribly and his eyes widened ( _that was cute. How was that cute. What is happening to me?_ ).   
  
  
Before he could think of rebuttal to Eyepatch’s ( _what was his name? Would he tell him? Why did he want to know?_ ) teasing, Eyepatch yawned ( _cutecuteprotecthimhe'scutewhatishappeningtome!?_ ) and thrust his arms towards Amon and above his head. Eyepatch regarded him sleepily before ordering,

  
 “Pick me up.”

  
in that soft-warm-gentle voice. Amon rocked back on his heels, surprise lifting his eyebrows into his hairline. Then he noticed the thinly veiled fear and poor focus in Eyepatch’s gaze.   
  
  
Humiliation forgotten, concern slamed into Amon like a freight train ( _of course the ghoul laughing out of nowhere wasn’t a good sign_ ). Amon wanted to run a few laps of the building as punishment for being so stupid. The tiny guy was going into shock and his outstretched arms were, upon closer inspection, wracked with minuscule tremors.  

  
“Shit...” 

  
Amon swore under his breath, reaching forward to scoop Eyepatch back into his embrace. He didn’t fully understand why, but being off the floor seemed to be relaxing for the ghoul.

  
 “Are you alright? What would you like me to do?”

  
 Amon found himself whispering, rocking the small figure in his arms as he rubbed circles into his back. The ghoul was clearly out of it by now, only replying by burrowing his face into the juncture between Amon’s neck and shoulder. Amon stood stock-still as he listened to Eyepatch’s breathing grow deeper and more widely spaced.  
  
  
Just when he thought the ghoul had fallen asleep, Amon felt cool rough hands slide down the collar of shirt and over his back. Eyepatch gave a contented huff when he shuddered and inclined his head upwards, whispering into his ear,

  
 “Amon...thank you.”

  
Before falling asleep.


	3. Armour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amon and Banjou both try to exercise restraint and Kaneki goes home.

Something in Amon’s brain creaked dangerously. Though he considered Eyepatch a good existence, somebody to be protected and admired, Amon’s feelings had never managed to stray too far into personal territory ( _had they?_ ).  
  
  
He prided himself on his self-control and emotional restraint in emergencies. _**This was a damn emergency**_.  
  
  
He was a second-class investigator cradling a sleeping ghoul in his arms. Even worse, the rush of euphoria that had overtaken him when the ghoul had thanked him and passed out ( _thank God, he would recover if he slept_ ) had...given him a rather unprofessional problem.  
  
  
Amon was not prepared for this kind of emergency. He had no experience in this particular...field. He knew his physiological reaction could, theoretically, be caused by the abrupt release of tension ( _and pain_ ) and the sudden influx of positive emotion ( _and gentle physical contact_ ). However, theory did not make his situation go away.  
  
  
His ears felt like twin torches, blazing away with the strength of his humiliation. He shifted from foot-to-foot, his half-hard dick brushing uncomfortably against the stiff fabric of his boxers. Tension was snaking deep into Amon’s joints, manifesting in his limbs as nervous energy.  
  
  
Oh lord, he wanted to do some push-ups. A training routine. Anything. _**He needed to move**_. The clenching and subsequent release of his hands on Eyepatch’s thighs ( _eck!? How long had he..._ ) must have been painful because Eyepatch shifted and hissed into his shoulder.

  
 “Stop moving.”

  
 He demanded grouchily, loosening his koala grip enough to swat at Amon’s head. The blow went wide and cool air whispered through Amon’s sweaty bangs. He was a complete wreck.  
  
  
He shuddered at the chill, becoming acutely aware of Eyepatch's even more wrecked state and unconsciously gathering the ghoul closer to body. Eyepatch's arm thumped back onto his shoulder, fingers ghosting over his collar before he shoved his hands back under Amon’s shirt.

  
 “Warm...” 

  
Eyepatch hummed, pressing his fingers flat against Amon’s overheated skin and soaking in the heat.  


His situation was worsening by the second. Eyepatch’s voice so close to his ears had set the hairs on the back on his neck on end. The close contact between them ( _the trust too...he was amazed_ ) and the ghoul’s cold hands on his skin were sending little jolts through his brain, threatening to destroy his train of thought. His fingers convulsed against his will, sinking into the soft skin of Eyepatch’s thighs yet again.  
  
  
No noises of complaint followed, which was good because Amon could not seem to let go. Heat was pooling in every blasted place they touched ( _oh Mother, that was practically everywhere_ ), turning Amon into a furnace of shame ( _much to the ghoul’s pleasure, which brought about another fever-warm flush_ ).  
  
  
Amon could tell he was lost in a wave of survivor’s high. He had experienced it before. Judging by the past, Amon _really_ needed to move soon ( _before he scared his charge_ ).  
  
  
In desperation, Amon began to jog in place, straining at the waist to keep his torso from moving. The exercise was difficult, designed for running and shooting simultaneously. Soon he was sweating bullets, his unfortunately timed boner giving in to his leg’s need for blood.  


A fine mist of his earlier high still clung to the inside of his skin, drawing shuddering exhales from his lips in time with Eyepatch’s breathing ( _which swept over his skin like a desert wind, incinerating him from the inside out_ ). The worst of the haze had receded however, so he felt it prudent to slow his jogging.  
  
  
Minutes later Amon stopped moving entirely, pausing to catch his breath. He felt better now, clear-headed even. With his mind functioning again, Amon realized he had another problem.  
  
  
His CCG radio was beeping in his pants pocket and he still had an armful of vulnerable ghoul. He couldn’t leave Eyepatch alone. He also couldn’t take care of him for much longer without arousing suspicion. Finally, he was human, meaning he fundamentally could not provide for Eyepatch when he next woke.  
  
  
Amon got the feeling that he should take Eyepatch someplace more visible. He had been defending other ghouls when Amon had first encountered him.  
  
  
If Eyepatch had been brought to this place by force ( _Amon was sure he had_ ), he would not defend his attackers ( _at least Amon hoped he wouldn’t_ ). The ghouls he had been guarding were likely allies then, fellows from the same hunting grounds who had come to find him. If Amon could somehow take Eyepatch back to them, he was sure they’d take care of him. But Eyepatch had insisted they run away from him, therefore they had him flagged as an enemy.  
  
  
Amon couldn’t bring himself to leave Eyepatch alone either, even if he was only hiding nearby. Visualizing himself doing so had twisted his stomach unpleasantly. He found himself lifting a mammoth hand to gently cradle the back of Eyepatch’s head, combing out the filthy white locks.  
  
  
No, he wasn’t fond of the idea of letting go of the little ghoul. Unable to decide on a course of action, Amon simply followed his gut out of the basement.

 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

For awhile now, Amon had the distinct impression of being watched. While the feeling on eyes on him made his hackles rise at first, over time he had relaxed. Being observed for so long without being attacked probably meant his stalker was unable to fight or their focal point was the ghoul in his arms. Amon fervently hoped that the watcher was one of Eyepatch’s allies. Otherwise he’d be battling an unknown assailant unarmed and otherwise occupied.  
  
  
His quinque was still somewhere in the basement level and turning back now seemed like an awful idea. His follower was trailing behind him and could react poorly to his change of course. Amon had been directing his senses towards the impression of the watcher rather intensely and as such failed to pay attention to the rocks at his feet.  
  
  
His heel rolled sideways over one, causing him to stumble a bit. It took him a moment to correct his sway ( _he was such a wreck_ ), in which he jostled Eyepatch enough to rouse him.

The ghoul lifted his head from its place at Amon’s shoulder for a second, looking around the room before deciding he couldn’t care less. Grunting with effort, Eyepatch moved his exhausted muscles to tuck himself securely underneath Amon’s chin chest to chest. Amon stopped walking, listening to the soft shuffling and grumbling coming from beneath his head.  
  
  
When Eyepatch had settled himself in again, Amon lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross-legged with the ghoul in his lap. He did this without much thought, acting on the desire to let the ghoul sleep without interruption.  
  
  
Eyepatch huffed at the transition and dragged his legs from around Amon’s hips to between his legs. Humming softly to himself, Amon bent his shoulders and neck inwards, making a wall around Eyepatch. He was rewarded with a placid sigh and the settling of the ghoul’s hands at his waist.  
  
  
As Eyepatch reentered his deep slumber, Amon felt his stalker approach. No alarms shrilled in his head, so Amon strove to remain facing forward. Finally, the watcher came to a halt just out of view.

 “What are you doing with Kaneki?”

 Came an angry and incredibly deep bass voice. Amon began to turn his head towards the speaker, his eyebrows drawn in confusion. Who was he talking- oh. Amon’s heart fluttered a bit as he repeated with some wonder, 

“Kaneki.”

  
  _ **He had a name**_. Of course, Amon knew he had a name. Knowing that name was something completely different though. _**It completed his image of Eyepatch as a person**_. Caught up in his daydream, Amon completely missed the stranger’s hiss of irritation.

  
“You have no right to address him like that!”

  
 Came a cry of disapproval. Startled, Amon finally locked eyes with the person who had been following him. It was a hulking man with a bizarre spiral beard and a disturbingly teary-eyed, frustrated, child-like expression. Veins were bulging in his neck and forehead as even his hair seemed to bristle in loathing ( _like an overgrown cat_ ).  
  
  
Finally, Amon’s brain caught up to the man’s earlier line of questioning. 

  
“He’s tired and hurt.” 

  
He replied, deflating the man before him. Concern and fear made itself noticeable on the stranger's face ( _so he’s one of Kaneki’s friends, good_ ). Taking the plunge, Amon continued,

  
 “I was caring for him. He seems to be in shock.”

  
 Unexpectedly, this caused the man to blow into a passionate fit. 

   
_**“You were taking care of him!?”**_  

  
The hulking stranger cried out, snot and tears running over his face ( _Amon shuddered a bit in revulsion_ ),

  
 “I’m so useless! Kaneki, I’m so sorry I let you go off alone!”

   
The odd person was wailing now, waving his arms dramatically and throwing himself at the floor. It was unnerving even though Amon could tell he wasn’t dangerous. Trying to pacify the man, Amon spoke up again; 

  
“It’s alright. He was fine with me.”

  
 The mess on the ground stopped crying and Amon gave a sigh of relief. The feeling didn’t last long however. When the man lifted his face from the floor, his expression was positively wrathful.  

  
_**“Are you his shield?”** _

  
He said lowly, bass voice shaking with anger. Amon considered his position around the boy in his lap as well as the apparent source of the man’s rage. It was blatant that this stranger was jealous ( _was he some kind of wannabe defender?_ ) and a positive reply would probably set him off again. Keeping that in mind, Amon carefully replied,

  
 “No, I’m not.”

  
 Hoping his half-lie would be overlooked ( _armour and shields weren’t exactly the same_ ).

  

 

-POV Change-

 

  Banjou gaped in horror as the bastard carrying Kaneki _**tilted his body to cover Kaneki**_  while he answered Banjou’s question. He was fucking _**shielding him**_ right after he said he wasn’t.  
  
  
A human was doing a better job than him.  
  
  
An INVESTIGATOR was more entitled than himself to help a fellow ghoul.  
  
  
He felt like he hadn’t grown up at all. Rize would be so ashamed of him. **_All this time had passed and he was still relying on her_** ( _or parts of her_ ) _**to survive**_. Banjou hadn’t validated himself as a man at all.  
  
  
Eyeballing the investigator, Banjou made a decision. He would prove himself to Kaneki ( _to himself?_ ). He was going to fight the investigator.    


“Stand up.”

 He commanded, readying his fists.

 

 

  -POV Change-

 

Even though his mind was fuzzy, Amon still reacted immediately to orders. He rose, his grip on Kaneki unrelenting. While Amon was busy blearily regarding Kaneki’s ridiculously dangling legs ( _he should arrange him into a more comfortable shape..._ ) the stranger stepped forward, winding his arm back.  
  
  
Without paying attention, Amon took a step to the left, leaning all his weight on one leg and extending his foot as the large man rushed him.

 

 

  -POV Change-

 

Before Banjou’s fist could reach the investigator’s face, Banjou’s face met the floor. He was very preoccupied with beating the shit out of the smug Dove, not noticing that he had moved or his tripping position, and did not throw out his hands to slow his fall. A wet thud and a wince from the man accompanied his head’s journey into the concrete.  
  
  
He lay there for a few seconds, desperately trying not to pass out from the pain. Banjou had never been particularly good at fighting and cried whenever he got hurt. Trying to hold back tears, Banjou repeated his latest mantra; 

  
“I will help Kaneki. I will be useful. Everything will be alright.”

  
 Banjou felt fiery passion engulf him again, blinding him to his wounds. Rearing up, he threw out a boneless punch into thin air. He had expected the investigator to be near his fallen body, gloating maybe, but no one was there. Banjou’s anger ebbed as he searched out his sworn enemy.  
  
  
It took him awhile ( _his left eye was swelling shut and blood was pouring from his forehead. No one took a fall like Banjou_ ) but he ultimately located the Dove some distance away, sitting cross-legged on the ground. Unsteadily, Banjou made his way towards him to pick another fight. Five feet from his goal Banjou was brought to a halt by the investigator’s hushed voice,

  
 “Stop that. You’re going to wake him up.”

  
 The man inclined his face towards Banjou, pinning him with an icy glare. It reminded Banjou strongly of Kei when his grumbling disturbed Kouto’s sleep. Banjou felt the same sense of sheepish embarrassment he felt then. His desire to comfort Kaneki outweighed his inclination to prove himself as a man. So, just as he softened his grumbles and gave extra blankets to Kei, Banjou halted his advance and sat himself across from the investigator.  
  
  
His behaviour had been shameful ( _he had tried to punch the man while he was still carrying Kaneki. Yeesh, that was stupid_ ). He still had a duty to fulfill however, and so Banjou asked the important questions.  

  
“Do you intend to take him?” 

  
He inquired, a harsh edge to his tone ( _though he wouldn’t fight him right now, he hadn’t forgiven the man for taking his place. The Dove was also annoying_ ). A part of Banjou was hoping the man would try just so he could stop him. A far larger part just wanted Kaneki back safe and sound though, and so Banjou fervently prayed while the investigator mulled his question over.

  
“I am not a ghoul.”

  
The man responded flatly as if in answer. Banjou stared at him, stupefied. Obviously he wasn’t a ghoul. He was clearly an investigator. The Dove sighed heavily and turned fully towards him, Kaneki’s head drooping down his chest as he freed his hands.

  
 “You are. I can’t take care of him like you can.” 

  
The man continued with a serious air ( _for which Banjou was a bit grateful. He had actually feared he would slip into sarcasm like people usually did with him_ ), gesturing towards Banjou’s person. An ember of satisfaction lit up in his heart at the Dove’s comment.  
  
  
It was true, an investigator couldn’t hope to provide for Kaneki. It also seemed like the guy wasn’t going to put Kaneki in jail either ( _thankfully; Banjou probably couldn’t take him in a fight_ ).  
  
  
Nodding to himself, Banjou reached out for Kaneki, fully intending to take him back to his friends. Annoyingly, the man closed his arms around Kaneki again. Worse, he gave Banjou a look that was a mix of disapproval and appraisal. Just as he began to get fired up, the investigator opened his mouth.

  
  _ **“Will you be his shield?”**_

  
He probed, voice heavy with intent and fixing Banjou with a predatory stare. Banjou grinned, the ember in his chest expanding to fill his body with a blazing purpose.

  
  _ **“I already am.”**_

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Banjou instantly felt tranquil ( _his bonfire of resolve separating into many candles, calm and warm_ ) when Kaneki was securely hanging onto his back. His delicate snores were music to Banjou’s ears ( _he was trusted and Kaneki was well_ ) and brought a ghost of a smile to his face.  
  
  
His eyes slipped shut for a moment as he took in Kaneki’s vitals. His gentle breathing, the strong beats of his heart, the warmth of his skin, the scent of sweat blood and tears…no one had left him tonight.  
  
  
Coming out of his reverie, Banjou gave a sharp nod to the investigator, who was leaning heavily against a column and watching him forlornly. Expression morphing, the investigator returned the nod severely, furrowing his eyebrows and lifting his jaw, indicating his acceptance.  
  
  
Banjou took the gesture for what it was and took his leave, jogging out of the room.

  
 “Kaneki,”

  
He stated, reining in his excitement and keeping his voice low, 

  
“We’re going home.” 

  
Soon fresh air hit his body and cool moonlight bathed the forest path he was to follow. It passed over him like water, flowing through his veins and leaving him buoyant. The path he was on would lead to freedom, to change, to another chance. Hope was swelling within him, filling every nook and cranny.

  
_**This was his path to tomorrow.**_

 

-POV Change-

 

The basement room was empty, the air stagnant. Amon picked his way through the rubble and searched for his thrown quinque. His face was blank with an unfocused gaze. He didn’t notice when his fingers first brushed cold steel. It was only when he realized he had not touched himself ( _a strange thought_ ) that it occurred to him. He had found what he was looking for.  
  
  
His success did not fill him with a sense of achievement though. He still felt more metal than man. Mado’s death had set his heart ablaze; it boiled his blood and burned him raw and hot and angry and still so very very alive. He had carried that red hot brand around with him ( _his very own cross_ ) until it felt natural. Until it felt right. But when he passed Kaneki over to Banjou, he noticed the absence of that flame ( _when had it left him?_ ).  
  
  
Now, quinque in hand and a mission to complete, he was a burnt out husk ( _his path was crumbling_ ) and colder than ever. He felt bereft without understanding why ( _a mourner at a stranger’s funeral or a suit of armour with no one inside_ ).  
  
  
Amon collected himself, radioing in his position to his commander and striding towards the stairs. He paused at the top of them, fixing his eyes on a hole in the ceiling through which he could see the sky. His lips turned down and he frowned in question, directing his bemusement at the moon.   
  
  
When Kaneki left his arms, he had the strangest feeling something else went with him too.


	4. Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amon has feelings and he doesn't like them.

“104, 105, 10-“  
 

With a startled gasp, Amon’s sweaty hands slipped from the pull-up bar. He hit the ground painfully, his muscles calling out their discontent.   
  
  
After he’d been debriefed on Kokuria’s jailbreak, he’d returned to his apartment in the 20th ward and slept like the dead, expecting nightmares of the past to plague him. Instead, he’d awoken past midnight with the tendrils of a dream still clouding his mind. His belly had been pleasantly warm and his arms were crushing the life out of a pillow. He had regarded his situation with bleary confusion until some stray feathers had escaped the pillow, upon which he had released it.  
  


When he let go the emptiness began to unfurl inside him once more. Well-rested he had been able to identify the feeling ( _the hole where his stomach was that couldn’t be filled_ ) of depression squeezing the air from his lungs. It happened often.   
  
  
Whenever doubt trickled into his mind ( _water to the fire of his resolve_ ) a horrible lethargic nothingness followed. When he was younger it had dominated him. Older now, more practiced, he was prepared to cope.   
  
  
He’d closely examine the origins of his uncertainty, then reevaluate his path and act accordingly. In the meantime he would prepare for the battles that would certainly come, driving the hollow-feeling from his body with exertion.  
  
  
That train of thought was what lead him to the floor of his apartment, panting as the sun rose through his curtains. He’d exercised his body furiously until he could feel the dull ache in his abdominal muscles filling the hole.   
  
  
Lying back, he let out a breath ( _he’d overestimated himself and couldn’t keep up with his new regime_ ) and pressed his overheated cheek to the cold wooden floor while he examined his inner turmoil.  
  
  
His battle with Kaneki had been accompanied by the first seeds of doubt in his heart. Their next meeting had worsened it, allowing it to blossom into sickly anxiety. Amon knew he had grown obsessed with him somewhere in-between.   
  
  
Kaneki was the source of his confusion. He filled Amon with something he didn’t have, made him cold and hot, furious and content, he forced him to fight him and then protect him. Kaneki made him go against his beliefs ( _eradicate all ghouls_ ) and it had felt right.  
 

Should he be doing something else with his life?  


_**Kaneki had even invaded his dreams**_ ( _his presence had left an impression on him that rivalled Father’s, but he hadn’t had any nightmares tonight. There really was no denying what he'd dreamed about_ ).  


**Was he wrong?  
  
**

He couldn’t trust his emotions in front of the little ghoul anymore, not after today. His feelings went awry at the thought of him. Amon couldn’t be sure of right and wrong. If his fascination with Kaneki ran deeper than that…if it was an infatuation…it did not matter. His cause was more important.  
  
  
It was because of that ( _and more_ ) that he decided he needed to see Kaneki again. Amon would reevaluate his concepts of justice only after he discussed them thoroughly with Kaneki. He’d question him about ghouls, about why he wouldn’t kill him, about who he’s trying to save, about who hurt him, about his deeply entrenched loneliness and the thing that is eating him alive.   
  
  
If his answers were selfish, harmful, or brimming with ill-intent; Amon would kill him. He’d kill these feelings too ( _like tearing the wings off a butterfly straight from the cocoon_ ), whatever they were.  
 

Involuntarily, he dug his knuckles into his breast bone until his eyes pricked from the pain. The hole was back in his stomach, ragged around the edges and fluttering in response to his anxiety.   
  
  
Still ( _he used less force now_ ), if he wanted to question Kaneki, the ghoul would have to be in good condition both mentally and physically, right? If he was in bad shape, Amon could take care of him until then ( _his hands fell to his sides_ ). He could interrogate him afterwards ( _his breathing eased_ ).   
  
  
Who knows? Kaneki might even surprise him ( _he slipped back into his dream_ ).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a little half-chapter to set the stage for the next arc. Don't worry, the rest will be longer!


	5. Investigator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been 6 months since the CCG's Aogiri raid and some of our favourite investigator's are taking the floor. Seidou is bored, Akira is steeped in self-doubt, and Amon has been up to no good.

Seidou Takizawa was having a terrible day. His arch-nemesis from the CCG Academy, Mado Akira, had recently gotten a job at the bureau. Worse, she was working with his personal hero: Amon Koutarou as his  _ **PARTNER**_.  
  
  
Seidou had thought he was lucky when he first got to join the Gourmet investigation squad and work alongside Amon, but it required him to work  ** _WITH AKIRA_**  ( _he’d always had difficulty talking to her and it made relaying information a humiliating task. Did she ever stop smirking???_ ) who was in a  _ **BETTER POSITION**_  ( _he really liked his partner, he just didn’t want Amon to have to work with AKIRA of all people_ ) than him.

  
Worst of all, the new part timer had been promoted into a super-special investigation squad with Amon and Akira. He also fit right in there, bonding with everyone without any trouble ( _not that he had trouble, not at all_ ). Essentially every newbie around was buzzing around his hero like children at an amusement park and he was sorting files at his desk. 

  
Grumbling to himself, he dropped his paperwork and looked around the office furtively. The number of highly-ranked ghouls had sharply increased as of the Kokuria jailbreak, resulting in Seidou doing his work alone 4 days out of 5 ( _even though he was working on the Gourmet case too..._ ).  
  
  
Judging by the dead silence of the room, Seidou was going to assume today was 1 of the 4. He kicked his feet up onto the desk and reclined, balancing a pen on his upper lip.  
  
  
Why did life have to be so cruel to him? He wanted a better job. It’d be nice to be useful and respected like Arima-san ( _not that he would ever hope to be as good as him, he knew his limits_ ).  
  
  
Seidou had been 2nd from the top of his class in the academy ( _AKIRA of course was number 1_ ) so he knew his skills were up to par ( _probably_ ). His lack of experience was an easy enough problem to fix. Amon-san had even said so! Then again, that’d been months ago.  
  
  
Once upon a time ( _before the jail-break to be precise_ ) Amon-san had been personally training him to fight with his quinque. They had started this routine shortly after Mado-san’s death. Seidou had asked Amon-san for help in an attempt to distract him from his grief, but it had turned out better than his wildest dreams. 

  
Seidou sighed heavily, twirling himself around in his chair ( _knocking over the stack of paperwork on the desk. He’d have to clean that up later_ ) and gazing dolefully at the ceiling. He had hoped training would get him into Amon-san’s good graces but his hero had been so distant lately. He supposed it was due to the promotion ( _the CCG finally saw how amazing Amon-san was!_ ) and having to train his annoying know-it-all new partner ( _who he was not jealous of AT ALL_ ).  
  
  
Man…why was he even bothering to do anything? Nobody needed his help today anyway.  
  
  
Seidou suddenly sat up, slapping at his cheeks. He mustn’t think like that! He was in a slump but he couldn’t let it last forever!! Akira was already getting ahead of him at work. People actually cared about her opinion ( _whoops, there go his spirits again_ ).  
  
  
Yes, he  _ **DEFINITELY**_  had to catch up. Grabbing the lunch his grandmother had prepared Seidou set off to find Shinohara-san. He had a training regime to restart!

 

-POV Change-

 

Akira Mado sat in the passenger’s seat of a slate grey CCG-issued SUV, keeping tabs on her partner out of the corner of her eye. She hadn’t worked with him for long, but her father had talked about him constantly ( _she’d asked about his partner one time and got stories for the rest of her father’s life_ ) so she had a pretty good idea of who Amon Koutaro was. An overly serious, over-eager, soft-hearted, hot-headed, instinctual, newbie powerhouse of investigating potential. His job was his life, his heart, his very soul.  
  
  
Since she had started however, she found herself second-guessing her father’s assessment ( _not a frequent occurrence_ ).   


Akira's gaze flicked over the dark smudges under Amon’s eyes ( _they had appeared one day and never left_ ) and the pile of papers that was sticking out of the glovebox ( _which wasn’t there last week. Interesting_ ).  
  
  
During her first week he had been as described; Amon was a disconcerting mixture of serious and excited. He had tried to put her in her place as his junior by hovering constantly, trying to instruct her and bond with her. It had been unpleasant, regardless of his good intentions.  
  
  
Glancing at him again, she smirked slightly. Amon had certainly learned his lesson. He was currently frowning ferociously at the road, as he had been ever since she’d pointed out a series of errors in his psychological profile of some minor ghouls earlier.  
  
  
Laughter bubbled up in her throat when she recalled the scene. Amon had been glowing like a kid in a candy store when he had interrupted her explanation of ghoul-psychology ( _she mayyy have only brought up the topic to keep him in his place, i.e. below her_ ) for some theories of his own. He'd wound up getting his pride absolutely demolished and was sulking embarrassingly obviously.  
  
  
The whole incident summed him up well ( _getting excited all by himself, rushing into a topic, screwing up, taking it way too harshly and throwing himself into knowing more in an oddly admirable fashion_ ). Her mirth ran dry as she felt it again. There was a note of dissonance in his behaviour even then, at his most "Amon".   
 

Certainly, he had changed since they first met. He’d probably been different ever since her father died ( _though the Amon at the grave site was so easily identifiable from her father’s talk_ ) and would keep on morphing into new faintly-recognizable creatures. Everybody did, didn't they?  
  
  
Sighing, she gave a long look to the dark road ahead. She considered sleeping for awhile ( _it was getting late_ ) but that dissonance was still bothering her.  
  
  
Akira was the type who could never leave a puzzle unfinished ( _even if it meant cutting up the box into new pieces to replace the missing ones. Her father had never really let that go. She was glad he remembered_ ). Amon’s sudden interest in psychological profiling was horrifically out of character for someone like him. Hot-heads don’t do cold calculation ( _made obvious by how bad he was at it_ ).  
  
  
Work clearly wasn’t the only thing involved here. She knew he was doing something unrelated late at night, no matter how many times he told her he was “training”. His psychical condition was excellent and improving over time, but not nearly at the rate he claimed to have been training ( _God, what a shitty excuse. It was her job to take note of everything her partner did, obviously she wouldn't fall for something like that_ ). 

  
Grimacing, Akira thought back to her first attempts to piece together the puzzle. When Amon first started acting distant and exhausted she had thought she could tease the reason out of him. Some pointed jokes here, some sarcastic comments about “training” there. It hadn’t worked though.  
  
  
Amon was a horrible liar ( _couldn’t even look at her when he spoke about "training" now_ ) but he stuck to his story with an annoying tenacity. They might not be close yet, but Akira had thought Amon was determined to be to her what her father was to him. The lying had annoyed her then and continued to piss her off now.  
  
  
Maybe this wasn't a mystery after all. It was possible that Amon, like so many others, just didn't give a damn and wasn't worth the time ( _forget about them Akira, don't bother_ ).  
  
  
She snuck another glance at Amon through the reflection of the SUV window, subconsciously noting that his petulant frown had eased. He met her eyes suddenly, flustering her as he delivered an earnest smile.

  
 “I'm sorry for sulking like a kid, Akira. I...uh... I’d never given much thought to profiling ghouls until you became my partner." 

  
Beginning to look embarrassed, Amon focused on a spot beside her ear ( _what an easy to read guy_ ).

  
"I want to be able to help you out sometimes too. It's the least your senior partner should do.”

  
He finished, turning back to the road. Akira hummed in response, reclining in her seat and closing her eyes. 

  
 “Keep working on it. Maybe one day you’ll almost be good.” 

  
She responded, letting a ghost of a smile curve her lips as Amon heaved a sigh, no real dissatisfaction in it.  

  
He was keeping secrets and doing some private little project…but he was Amon Koutaro ( _honest to fault, loyal as a dog, the kind of idiot who would follow her to hell and back, someone who wouldn't give up on her_ ).  
  
  
Her father was never wrong about people when he was alive and she didn’t like to think he was wrong in death. Whatever Amon was doing, it was for the good of the CCG.  
  
  
He had to keep up with her as her “senior” after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, alright, this is the beginning of the 3-part CCG arc. I'm going to be catching up with a couple of investigators and setting the scene for Kaneki's reappearance and some major changes to the gen plot. 
> 
> PS Seidou is the CCG's pouty baby and I love it. There's a little reference to "Out to Lunch" here too!


	6. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shinohara's dad-senses are tingling. He knows Amon is sneaking around and is dead-set on figuring out why.

Shinohara was trying to relax in the uncomfortable bar stool outside of the local ramen stand he frequented. His back ached from a full day of roaming the city looking for information.  
  
  
His subordinates in the Gourmet investigation team had been getting antsy lately and he had hoped falling back on classic techniques would get them some new leads. He had asked damn near every local he had run into about suspicious persons and hallmarks of ghouls. Nobody had heard a thing recently.Though he had often hunted in the 20th ward before, the Gourmet had avoided it for months.  
  
  
**_The ward hadn’t been this peaceful in years._**  
  
  
Was he losing his touch? Shinohara knew he was the man to go to in a fight ( _though he was getting older_ ), however it seemed to him that his investigation techniques were too old-school. Suzuya and Akira both reacted to his methods with…a total lack of enthusiasm if he was being honest. Even Amon was getting caught up in "psychological profiling" ( _like Akira_ ) and unique training regimens ( _like Suzuya…honestly he had no idea how that kid trained, but they had to to maintain that flexibility and agility_ ).  
  
  
His brows knitted together and he grumbled under his breath. He had designed Amon’s original physical regimen. Amon had stuck to it for years, accepting any suggestions or improvements from him with reverence.

  
Shinohara kind of missed doting on him. He was also really  _really_  worried about him.  
  
  
Akira and Suzuya were mostly alright without outside influence.They were consistent with their needs and he was sure he could meet them. Suzuya needed nudges in the right direction, some fathering, and a moral compass. Akira was self-contained but chatted with him or the other superiors when she was having difficulty with the job. Sure, she’d ask in a semi-grudging and bizarrely humorous way ( _Mado humour_ ), but she’d still ask. Amon would usually do the same ( _except politely_ ).  
  
  
He’d been awfully silent lately however, cancelling dinner arrangements, disappearing during breaks, growing more muscular and sharp, gaining new interests ( _almost unheard of due to his steadfast stick-in-the-mud personality_ ), and becoming more exhausted with each tick of the clock.  
  
  
His behaviour was odd enough that Akira had commented on it ( _indirectly, in true Mado fashion. She’d told Shinohara that he must be unpopular because even a dog, Amon, won’t follow him around_ ) and she'd only been here a handful of months.  
  
  
Shinohara squeezed his eyes shut and pinched his nose in consternation. ( _He hoped Amon wasn’t doing drugs or something. Amon was too straight-laced for steroids right? What if he’d made some nasty friends who were a bad influence? Was he staying out all night? Is that where he met drug-dealing hooligans?_ ). When he opened them, his bowl of ramen sat steaming before him, but he didn’t feel like eating anymore.  
  
  
He felt like a father of 3 and his golden child had just become the problem child.  
  
  
Well, they were going to have a family dinner whether Amon liked it or not.  

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~

  
“Amon! Would you come here for a second?”   
  


Shinohara boomed, spotting Amon out of the corner of his eye. He’d been trying to sneak out of the office without talking to anyone, hadn’t he?  
  
  
Amon flinched hard when he heard Shinohara’s voice, turning to him with his head down, the picture of a scolded child. Shinohara nearly forgot his stern scowl when Amon started scuffing his shoes against the carpet nervously ( _which was cute in a toddler and absolutely devastating in a 6’3 muscle man_ ).   
  


 “I’m not mad at you, Amon.”

   
he said, fighting to keep the steel in his voice. 

   
“I want to talk though. We’re having dinner tonight.”

   
He finished firmly, giving Amon a sharp look when he finally faced him. Amon’s eyes widened with a fervent sort of desperation ( _addiction? Amon had realllllly better not be on drugs_ ) and he began to back out of the office incredibly slowly.  

   
“I’m sorry Shinohara-san, but I’m very busy. I need-“ 

   
 Shinohara cut Amon off deftly, countering with  

  
“To work out till you tear a muscle? To stay up till 3 am again, Amon?”

   
He admonished, sending Amon his best "I am so disappointed in you right now" face. Amon’s retreat from the room halted as his face flushed red and he switched tactics. 

   
“I’m working hard for the CCG’s sake. A lot has happened and-“ 

   
Shinohara waved his hand dismissively, swatting away Amon’s weak defence.  

   
“You always work hard, Amon. I’m not going to scold you, I just want to make sure you are taking care of yourself.” 

   
( _and haven’t gotten mixed up in any trouble_ ).    
  
  
Amon still looked doubtful, seemingly moments from inching out the door. Shinohara couldn’t see what was so important he had to leave THIS INSTANT, but knew expressing those thoughts would set Amon off in a rather predictable fashion.  
  
  
Shifting gears, Shinohara pulled out the big guns. 

   
“Akira is worried about you, you know? She thinks that your exhaustion will affect you on the job. She’s also been coming to me with all kinds of problems because  _you_  are never around.”

  
 He sighed heavily as he watched Amon visibly deflate, shoulders sagging and his face creasing with a confounded frown.   
  


“I didn’t think she needed any help.”   
  


He muttered, expression shifting from confused to repentant as the full weight of Shinohara’s statement rested upon him ( _good, maybe now he’d stop being so difficult and would accept some help_ ). Shinohara decided to try his luck again.    
  


“Let’s go get dinner.”

 

~~~~~~~~

 

There were a few pitfalls along the way ( _Suzuya **really** wanted to get ramen with him and he was 100% sure it was just to be annoying_ ), but he managed to sit Amon down to a meal in a secluded booth of an unpopular restaurant. The food there was notoriously mediocre ( _not bad enough to be shut down, but not good enough to want to eat_ ) but the building would serve its purpose as a meeting place.  
  
  
Shinohara ordered himself a coffee ( _the only thing the restaurant made well_ ) and got Amon the biggest healthiest meal he could afford. The waiter side-eyed their briefcases for a moment before offering a discount for public-service workers. Amon’s face went a little green when he used that discount to pointedly order a side-dish of spicy vegetables ( _which he would shove into Amon’s mouth if he didn’t finish his meal, so help him God_ ).  
  
  
The waiter quickly made his escape into the kitchen and then they were alone.  
 

Amon’s eyes shifted around, landing anywhere but on Shinohara’s face and his leg jiggled nervously.

   
“So, Amon..."  
  


Shinohara began. Amon's eyes snapped to him immediately, holding his breath as he waited for him to continue.   
  


"Are you on drugs?” 

   
Shinohara flatly asked, folding his hands under his chin, entering interrogation mode.  
  
  
Amon’s fidgeting froze and he gawked at Shinohara for a couple of tense seconds. Finally, he spluttered and waved his hands around in denial, taking serious offence to the accusation.  
  
  
Shinohara’s eyes crinkled for a moment, revealing his not-so-private relief before his investigator face reappeared.

   
 “Are you over-working yourself because of Mado-san?”

   
He queried next in a slightly gentler tone. Shinohara did not really believe this was the case as he was ( _unfortunately_ ) familiar with Amon’s reaction to survivor's guilt. He had to work his way up to the big questions though, the ones that would really hit home.  
  
  
This time Amon’s denial was coupled with a stone-face, the same one he used to deliver reports. His features softened quickly under Shinohara’s apologetic gaze, however.  
  


 “No, I…I'm trying my best to keep everyone safe, that's true. But Shinohara-san, that's not...Mado-san isn't the reason I’m so busy right now though.”   
  


He stated glumly, all the while meeting Shinohara’s eyes steadily. Shinohara knew there wasn’t anything he could say to ease Amon’s burden in that respect, so he swiftly moved on with his line of questioning.  
  


“Are you trying to get revenge on any one ghoul?”  
  


 He ask, now expecting the denial that came. Amon had been hunting Rabbit for awhile, though he wouldn’t go off on his own just to kill her.   
 

“Are you blaming yourself for what happened during the Aogiri Tree raid in any way?” 

   
He queried, hoping that he wasn't pushing too hard for answers. Amon visibly considered the question, rolling it over in his mind as he tented his fingers.  
  


 “I believe that we should have realized the trap sooner. I also believe that if I were more fit as an investigator, I could’ve provided more support to the others. I feel like I am not doing enough for the CCG and I can’t possibly make up for the amount of men we lost. I don’t blame myself, though."  
 

He smiled then, briefly, saying  
  


"You've lectured me far too many times about martyrdom, Shinohara-san."  
  


Looking back down at the table, he ground out,   
  


"I just…I wanted to do more."  
  


Before Shinohara could say anything else, Amon continued,   
  


 “That’s part of the reason I’m doing this, I…”

  
He cut himself off, growling in frustration and burying his face in his hands. Shinohara finally found himself putting 2 and 2 together. Amon was doing something for himself ( _if it was just fot himself or the CCG, he would have no trouble explaining it. He was always cripplingly bad at talking about himself, though_ ).  
  
  
Whatever it was, it would cause a problem for anyone else involved ( _hence the worry and the detachment of himself from his partners_ ). He wouldn’t pass his problems onto his friends and so he couldn’t talk about it.  
  
  
For all Shinohara considered his juniors in the CCG his children, he had to accept that they were adults too. He let the tension bleed from his body, his expression growing tender with fond nostalgia. Secrets are just another part of growing up.  
  


 “You don’t have to tell me, Amon. How can I help you out without knowing the details?”   
  


Amon lifted his head, meeting Shinohara’s gaze apprehensively. Seemingly comforted by what he saw there, Amon’s face hardened with determination.  

   
“Shinohara-san, how do I improve my people skills?”   
  


_What?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the CCG was a family Shinohara would 100% be the overworked single father trying to corral a bunch of wily problematic children into growing up as respectable members of society (he'd fail miserably). I swear him and Amon would be the embarrassing-sappy-overly serious father son combo, Akira would be the problematic genius kid who doesn't respect authority (she'd skip school and correct teachers 24/7, making parent-teacher meetings hell for Shinohara), and Suzuya would be the loose cannon (disappearing at random hours, bringing home strange animals, redecorating the house while Shinohara is gone, and making fun of Amon).


	7. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nagachika Hideyoshi is searching for something, somewhere, to connect him with someone.

Humming to himself as he walked down the street, Nagachika Hideyoshi wondered if he’d have any luck today. He’d been scouring bookstores in every ward, assembling a library of information on a particularly interesting topic. It wasn’t a widely researched topic and finding books was difficult.   
  
  
Even after searching for months, Hide’s library was a patchwork blanket full of holes. Gaps in his knowledge frustrated him to the point of sleeplessness. To the point of finding a job in the CCG. To the point of risking his life time and again on hunches.  
  
  
But hey, scientists were always going on and on about the nobility of the pursuit of knowledge, weren’t they? They messed around with radioactive compounds and died early in the name of discovery. Hide could consider himself a scientist working for the good of mankind ( _he was included in mankind, yep yep_ ).  
  
  
Hide's humming paused for a moment and his brows knit together. He tapped his index against his wrist as he mused. He wouldn’t be a scientist. It wasn’t really his thing. If Hide had to apply a career analogy to his current state of mind, he’d be a detective on the case.   
  
  
He let a grin skitter across his face and he locked his hands behind his head, his steps landing in perfect time to the beat flowing out of his headphones.  


Being a detective suited him really well. He was an investigator now ( _honorary investigator, but hey, to make ends meet…_ ) too. Detective Hideyoshi Nagachika, the part-timer, the kid who just realllllllly wants to do the CCG a service. A good citizen.  
  
  
For a moment, Hide’s step became just the slightest bit predatory, his gaze too alert for the smile of his face. An old woman who had been beaming at him from across the street drew in a sharp breath and blinked, startled.   
  
  
When her eyes opened, Hide was all sunshine and summer wind again. She returned to her earlier state of mind, unfazed. Hide watched her from the corner of his eye, taking care to keep the bounce in his step.  
  
  
In truth, he wasn’t very happy lately and was growing rather paranoid ( _thoughts growing increasingly dark and heavy with the constant feeling that **something wasn’t right**_ ). His latest obsession was proving to be difficult and dangerous to maintain. Unlike the many other things he’d picked up over the years, he couldn’t share it with anyone.   
  
  
He’d taken a break from school ( _there wasn’t any point in being there_ ) and moved into a tiny apartment ( _he didn’t want anyone to bother him_ ) that he hadn’t let his parents pay for ( _he had wanted to be the owner; that way his address would be recorded under his name when he entered it in every directory in Tokyo, just in case anyone needed to find him_ ) and had picked up a part-time ( _turning into a full-time_ ) position in the CCG to fuel his fascination.   
  
  
It was consuming him and he didn’t even mind.  
  
  
No, the upheaval of his life wasn’t why he was unhappy. It was unpleasant but tolerable. It had soothed a worse itch.

   
Kaneki’s disappearance was digging itself underneath his skin. His Kaneki-senses were tingling 24/7, blaring red-alert signals constantly ( _ **something was WRONG**_ ). The only thing that really took the edge off was burying himself in ghoul research.   
  
  
Ghoul physiology, surgeries, psychology, culture, the specifics of communities in each ward, famous ghoul cases, and evolutionary hypotheses on the evolution of ghouls. He also skimmed through the culture of cannibalism, treatment and understanding of PTSD, anxiety, paranoia, eating disorders, depression, and identity disorders.

  
  
Hide felt like each book was bringing him closer to Kaneki ( _which, considering their content, was growing increasingly disturbing_ ). He hoped that the text on the pages would let him continue being Kaneki’s friend when he found him again, that it would give him material to build a bridge over the rift between them.   
  
  
He wanted to coexist with him. Hell, he was pretty sure he needed to. He didn’t want to die of loneliness and no one else could fill the Kaneki-shaped void in his life.  
  


Plainly, almost everyone was “fun” to be around. Hide enjoyed spending time with 99% of the people he met. They were funny, kind, generous…pitiably easy to understand and lacking in…substance? Hide still felt lonely in the company of his classmates, maybe? He was having trouble focusing his thoughts internally.  
  
  
Every few seconds he was cataloguing information about his surroundings. His music was too quiet to block out all the sounds of the city ( _footfalls and breathing, coughing across the road, tires on asphalt_ ). He checked the map on his phone, checking to see how much further away his next turn was. He’d hate to miss the store again ( _he couldn’t sleep at all the first night after he’d missed it_ ).  
  
  
He still had a few more minutes of walking. He could afford to get lost in his thoughts. He glanced down at his phone, hurriedly changing over to an embarrassingly titled playlist he didn't remember making ( _< 3**~~Racing against Time (Hide-Hide Power List!)~~**<3_) and nearly maxing out the sound ( _no one was around to lecture him about his hearing anyway_ ).  
  


He hadn’t ever taken the time to think of WHY Kaneki was important before ( _he’d never disappeared before_ ). To Hide, Kaneki just WAS. He’d always been a little fuzzy on how other people could feel any differently ( _the first time he’d met one of Kaneki’s bullies, **he hadn’t really considered them human**_ ). When he’d first spotted him, he just knew he wanted to be his best friend.   
  
  
Kaneki never approached him first or anything. He wasn’t particularly social, and he hid all kinds of information, and he liked completely different things, and he had left him alone…but Kaneki was Kaneki.   
  
  
He was an open door, a pristine unlocked house. You’d stroll right in and leave your muddy footprints everywhere but the door was always unlocked.  
  
  
Sure, some things were swept under the rug and the walls had been repainted, but Kaneki had _**never EVER stopped feeling like home**_. So, Hide guessed his other friend’s were like his favourite places ( _a coffee shop, a library, that empty classroom on campus that was always the right temperature_ ). He’d visit them but wouldn’t stay. He liked them but didn’t need them.   
  
  
To feel whole, he probably needed Kaneki around ( _the truth of that felt like a puzzle piece sliding into place. He knew that being half a person **should scare him** , but it didn’t_). Kaneki held onto pieces of him ( _things he left behind and things he was coming back to_ ) and his personality was full of Kaneki as well ( _the books he read, how he comforted people, his favourite flowers, and the song he always listened to when he was sad…they were all his_ ).  
  


 “I’m getting lonely, Kaneki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though it's short, this is actually one of my favourite chapters. I always had the impression that Hide was a "more than meets the eye" kindof guy.


	8. Alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amon Koutarou meets a demon and something finally goes right in the life of Nagachika Hideyoshi.

The bookstore was a time-worn classic. The wooden doorway and floors were splintered under a layer of fresh carnelian paint. The name was exactly the kind of kitschy you’d expect ( _Second Meeting; he liked it_ ) and everything was covered in a healthy layer of dust. In other words, it was a place nobody frequented anymore.  
  
  
Hide let his chin drop to his chest as the strain in his muscles was relaxed for the first time in days. Gathering himself again, Hide began to walk through the shelves, brushing his fingers against the dusty spines, grinding the grit into the pads of his fingers.   
  
  
He discovered the shopkeep in the corner of his peripheral vision behind a countertop carved into a horrendous book motif. As the old man bent to retrieve something from below the ugly slab of wood, Hide allowed himself a closer look.   
  
  
The blocky shapes of poorly carved books littered the bottom of the counter, their shape and texture seeming to improve as they advanced towards the top. Homemade, he supposed. He liked this place more with each new thing he spotted.  
  


Returning to his task, Hide picked his way through the “supernatural creatures” section. These old stores always seemed to store ghoul books there. According to an anonymous tip ( _there were all manners of unusual people on rare book forums_ ), this store carried one of the only copies of a journal on ghoul feeding psychology and behaviour.  
  
  
There had been an investigator who operated out of the 13th ward with some sick hobbies that included torturing captured ghouls and starving them. His methods were brutal and absolutely condemned by the CCG’s standards ( _not that anyone stopped him_ ) and it had gotten him killed.   
  
  
His research was meticulously written however, and closely analyzed the effect that starvation, feeding, cannibalism, and suggestion had on food-crazed ghouls. He was probably the only authority in the world.   
  
  
Hide could understand why, somewhere in the back of his head. The forefront of his thoughts however, was occupied with what this knowledge could contribute to his own research.  


The ghoul starvation response was known to overrule all rational thought, but Hide was completely enamoured with the idea of using suggestive cues in this highly impressionable stage to turn ghouls off of frightened or living targets. The concept had been rattling around in his brain ever since he had heard of the journal’s rumoured contents. He wouldn’t ask the shopkeep about it just yet though.  
  
  
Hide knew these old bookstores like the back of his hand ( _he had collected dozens of rare titles in the past_ ) and suspected that the greying old man at the counter didn’t know what valuable merchandise he had on hand. Places like this purchased journals and diaries constantly, piling them on random shelves with no clearly defined order. He’d hate to inform the guy and pay a hefty sum ( _or worse, not get the book at all_ ), so he was keeping mum.  
  


His tip had told him that the journal would be stored somewhere “fantastical” where things of “ill-repute” belonged, next to “3 glass diamonds” ( _rare-anything collectors were a secretive bunch, but that was half the fun_ ). Hide was absolutely certain this meant the bottom shelf of the supernatural creatures section, likely next to several fakes planted by a collector to keep others away.   
  
  
He fervently hoped that the collector hadn’t successfully verified the authenticity of journal yet and returned for it.  
  
  
He leafed through the shelf, hunting for the tell-tale signs of fakes ( _glossy covers, chemical odours, firm pages_ ) and finding none. Frustrated and feeling the listlessness ( _that he had JUST SHAKEN DAMMIT_ ) unfurl insidiously inside of him, Hide buried his face in his hands, breathing hard.   
  
  
He centred himself slowly, focusing on the sounds and smells of his environment ( _soft padding along the carpet almost like socked feet from someone so stupidly polite they take off their shoes before entering a bookshop, the smell of cloves, dried glue, autumn leaves, and dust_ ).  


Calmer now, Hide glanced tentatively back at the bottom shelf. The light was catching on the spine of a suspiciously new-looking paperback.   
  
  
Somebody had been stuffing the shelves!  
  
  
Hurriedly, he began to dig through the adjacent books, quickly discovering the other 2 freshly printed paperbacks.  
  
  
There was no journal next to them.  
  
  
**_There was no journal in the shelf at all._**  
  
  
The book in Hide’s hands was instead on the treatment extreme mental trauma in children. Something about dissociative behaviours, enclosure therapy, and heights in relation to panic attacks. **_He wanted to set the stupid thing on fire._**  
  
  
Before he could indulge in his pyromaniacal thoughts however, a large slender-fingered hand descended upon the waste of his time.The hand wasn’t nearly wrinkled enough to belong to the shopkeeper. The sleeve it was emerging from was also too high quality to belong to the bookseller ( _not to stereotype, but Hide had noticed a certain fondness for tweed connected the men of this trade from coast to coast_ ).  
  
  
The cloth’s near-black shade of blue triggered a cascade of memories for Hide. The sketchy investigator who set off his **_something-is-wrong_** senses who had been causing his superiors so much trouble recently. The man on his squad who had something eating him in the exact same way Hide did.   
  
  
_**The exact same way**_.   
  
  
Shit. Hide’s eyes lit up in realization as he made eye contact with the panicking investigator in front of him. Since it was such a rare occasion, he let a shark-grin slip.

 

“Why hello there, Investigator Amon.”

 

-POV Change-

 

Amon’s brain was struggling to keep up with current events. His coworkers had been hounding him about his weird behaviour, his sleep schedule had careened off course along with his ability to string together a coherent train of thought, and he had finally managed to find the book he couldn’t rest without reading. However, something was wrong. He wasn’t as relieved as he should be upon finding it.

  
With nearly audible effort, Amon dragged his mental monologue up to speed. He wasn’t relieved because Nagachika was holding onto his book. The disorientatingly bright part-timer Nagachika, who was observing him with a villainous gleam in his eyes.  
  
  
And his book in his hands.  
  
  
His book that he had no reason to own.  
  
  
His book that was putting another nail into the “you’ve been acting really strangely lately” coffin.  
  


Unable to keep up with his ridiculously slowed-down brain, his mouth began babbling excuses ( _no no no, don’t do that, this is Nagachika, any lies you tell him will reveal the truth, Amon you idiot_ ).   
  
  
Worse than his excuses ( _oh hello Nagachika, that’s an interesting looking book you have there, I’ve never read anything like that before, you must be interested in psychology, I came here for some fiction novels myself, you know to help me sleep, haha, not that I’ve been sleeping poorly, have you been sleeping poorly, Nagachika?_ ) was the fact that his hands hadn’t gotten the “we are hiding how much we care about this book” memo and were clutching it in a white-knuckled death grip.   
  
  
Finally, just make Amon truly believe he was in Hell, Nagachika was gripping the book equally tightly, his face unchanging.  
  
  
Desperate, Amon scrabbled for a proper way to distract Nagachika.  
  


“I come to this shop from time to time to pick up _**fiction**_ books and I’ve never noticed a book like this here before. Sure looks interesting though, haha."

   
He was rambling stupid things ( _better divert his attention_ )  


“Do you suffer from panic attacks, Nagachika?”

   
Amon blurted, instantly turning paper white.   
  
  
The cover of the book didn’t say anything about panic attacks. That was in the description. On the back of the book. That he couldn’t see right now.   
  
  
Nagachika’s grin grew impossibly wide and sunny as he released the book into Amon’s hands, putting his own behind his head.  
  


“No I don’t. However... I strongly suspect a friend does.”  
  


 Hide’s eyes slitted as he fixed Amon with a penetrating stare.  
  


“How about you recommend me some books, Amon-san? Since we seem to have similar taste...”  
  


He requested, already dragging Amon to the counter.   
  
  
Amon was still stupefied by Hide’s earlier statement and didn’t manage to stop him from asking the shopkeep for his book order list. As the guy rattled off titles cheerily, Hide’s eyes grew narrower and narrower and the wattage of his smile increased. When the shopkeep was done, Hide turned back to Amon, the very picture of a demon to him in that moment ( _closed eyes, bared teeth. He looked like a hellhound_ ).  
  


“So, I guess you know my friend too.”

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Something wasn’t _**wrong**_ anymore. No, instead something was finally going right for Nagachika Hideyoshi. He'd lost the book, but he'd gained a source of information. _**He had an ally.**_


	9. Downpour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghouls really hate the rain. 
> 
> Warning for this chapter: mentions of sexual assault and violence.

A wet smack echoes through the dark parking lot. The rainfall drummed against the ground, ricocheting off of the darkly-clad woman struggling to pull herself from the ground.  
  
  
Her vision was blurred by the pink-tinged water rolling down her face but she could still make out a flash of white in the shadows. The masked ghoul ( _the wisp in the dark, the bone-white flicker at the edge of her vision_ ) pulled her face in close, breaking two of her fingers and binding them together just as she’d seen him do to her comrades. She screamed and for a terrifying moment she thought he was smiling ( ** _it was just the mask, just the mask_** ).  
  


“Sssh. Those fingers will heal in a few days. You’ll have to rebreak them though. I’m sorry to do this, but I need the ghouls in this area to understand a few things. I won’t tolerate what you’ve done twice.”  
  


 He rasped at her. She convulsed in fear. His voice sounded genuinely apologetic, disappointed, and nauseatingly soft. It was almost as if she were being chatasized by a concerned parent, not getting her body mauled by some vigilante ghoul.  
  
  
He squeezed her broken fingers lightly, a reminder.  
 

“We won’t…again. Never.”  

  
She swore, eyes threatening to roll back into her head as he pressed closer still, whispering now,  
  


“That’s good. It’s one thing to eat, you understand, but another completely to sexually assault your victims.”  
  


 Somehow, she knew that the face behind the mask with twisted with horror and disgust, tinged with pity for her prey. She felt more than saw his features smooth out into something horrendously blank ( _like the mask, or was it his face? She couldn’t tell anymore past the rain_ ) .  
  


“I’ll know if you do it again,”  
  


 He stated, inhaling sharply, kakugan active,  
  


“I know what your excitement smells like.”  
  


His exposed eye narrowed dangerously,  
  


“I hope I don’t get to know the smell of your fear nearly as well.”

  
 He finished, dropping her back onto the asphalt and striding away, soaked to the bone.  
  
  
Her vision swam with tears as she saw several silhouettes join his retreating form before she passed out.

 

 

-POV Change-

 

Kaneki breathed heavily through his mouth, trying not to take in the stench of terror ( _along with blood and semen, making him shiver in revulsion and hunger_ ) that reached him even through the rain. He found his tenuous control over himself to be exceedingly alarming. He sometimes felt as if Rize had gotten a second chance at life within himself, trying to metamorphose him into a hybrid monster.  
  
  
He hated to expose this part of himself to the people who had chosen to remain by his side ( _Hinami, Banjou, Ichimi, Jiro, Sante, and Tsukiyama_ ) but their presence was grounding to him. He knew they’d stop him if he tried anything funny ( _well, Tsukiyama wouldn’t, but that was beside the point_ ) and defend each other if he turned on them.  
  
  
They had all moved into an apartment in the 4th ward together, somewhere far from the Doves main investigations ( _and far from Anteiku_ ). This resulted in the formation of a solid unit comprised of nearly familial relationships ( _with the exception of Tsukiyama despite his less-than-endearing efforts_ ).  
  


He still went off alone sometimes ( _some of his investigations were too dangerous for company, he wouldn’t relent on that point_ ), but lately he found it made him feel sick. Sick to the soul more than any physical ailment. He felt ill today too, the odour of terror and blood seeping into his nose. Guilty as well, guilty and afraid.  
  
  
As he approached his motley crew, he felt his ever present fear ( _would they look at him with apprehension this time? Would they try to leave him? Could he still protect them from afar?_ ). It often felt like his terror was growing stronger with time instead of weaker.  
  
  
God, he’d dragged Hinami out in the rain today too. Guilt and self-hatred layered themselves in a stack in his stomach, crushing his ribs ( _it felt like Yamori's fists_ ). A cracking sound indicated that he’d broke one of his own fingers in anxiety.  
  
  
Suddenly, Banjou was standing before him, shielding his face from the view of the others. His hand was lying on Kaneki’s shoulder steadily exchanging its warmth with the chill of his skin.  
  
  
Faintly, Kaneki observed Banjou nodding to the others that they could go. After a moments hesitation, they dispersed, disappearing like phantoms in the torrential downpour.  
  


“You take her to the aviary every other time it rains, Kaneki. It’s alright, she won’t be damaged by one day of bad weather.”  
  


 Came Banjou’s rumbling bass voice along with the grip of his hand over Kaneki’s broken index. He gently set it, wincing in Kaneki’s place ( _he'd barely felt the bone move_ ).  
  


“Should I take her tomorrow?”  
  


 Kaneki queried, detached from himself. Banjou’s lip has a sad little quirk to them as he released Kaneki’s hand.

   
 “Let us treat you well tomorrow, alright Kaneki? It’s been a rough day for you.”  
  


 Before he could properly object, Banjou signalled for Kaneki to start walking homewards.  
  


 “It makes us feel better to spoil you, too.” 

   
He said, watching as Kaneki regained his usual stride ( _confident and liquid, the threatening edge having been tempered for now_ ). Following several paces behind his leader, Banjou looked at the barely visible fallen forms of three ghouls in the distance.  
 

“ ** _You aren’t wrong about this world, Kaneki_**.”   
  
  
He muttered, turning his gaze forward once again.

 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

In his dreams, Kaneki was reliving his “return” to Anteiku for the umpteenth time. Banjou’s crew and Hinami had been practically starving after a month or two with scare rations when Kaneki had finally realized that others couldn’t share his form of self-repugnance. The full-ghouls had been raised on regular meals of human meat that he couldn’t provide and he’d be damned if he let Tsukiyama provide.  
  
  
In a fit of desperation, he had travelled to Anteiku, hoping against hope to encounter only Yoshimura in the middle of the night. He’d sent a message along with Uta and had planned to arrive when everyone was off shift.  
  
  
He hadn’t expected Yoshimura and Uta to share his tidings with the other employees of the shop. He also hadn’t expected to be assaulted in the adjacent alley.  
  
  
Kaneki watched from a distant vantage point as his dream self’s back rippled and his kagune was exposed without a second to spare.

   
Touka, Yomo, and Uta descended from above him in an admirable ( _from an outsider’s perspective_ ) battle formation. Even now Kaneki felt a sharp pang of regret lance through his abdomen for not bringing any of his crew with him. He had felt guilty about their declining health and had chosen not to burden them with the travel.  
  
  
Perhaps Hinami could’ve warned him that his attackers weren’t actual foes before what happened next.

  
Kaneki watched his dream-kagune slam Touka into a wall with enough force to bring her down and snake past Uta ( _whom, somewhat subconsciously, he had been expecting_ ) to carve an angry valley across Yomo’s chest.  
  
  
Kaneki watched his dream-self inhale the scent of blood along with the scent of allies, kagune dissolving into nothing and his kakugan deactivating. He had immediately hauled Yomo to his feet, pressing his jacket to the wound and murmuring apologies.  
  
  
Yomo had actually had the nerve to laugh ( _that didn’t even hurt, fool. Is this how you kill your enemies?_ ) and say,

 “I see.”  

When he explained his current hair-trigger fight-or-FIGHT reflex. Touka had collected herself from the ground ( _rejecting Uta’s proffered hand_ ) and had thrown him to the ground yelling.  
  
  
Kaneki observed his dream-self’s shamefaced expression and lack of resistance until Yomo had interfered. The older man passed him several packages of meat and ask him a question point-blank:  
 

 “Would you like to restart your combat training?”  
  


Kaneki had nearly refused ( _he’d managed to take out both his instructors in scant seconds after all_ ) when he realized Yomo’s hands were both resting over his kakuhou and Uta was flanking him.  
  


Though the memory was somewhat painful, and he always woke up before Yomo stopped bleeding and started smiling, the ending of it was rather pleasing. He had agreed to learn martial arts from Yomo and an odd berserker style from Uta. Touka wouldn’t speak to him and wouldn’t participate in his training, but his travels to Anteiku allowed him to see her face.  
  
  
Awake now, Kaneki gazed blankly at his ceiling, smiling the slightest amount. Lately he’d been taking home books on fighting from his teachers ( _Yomo was surprisingly fatherly_ ) and he’d been teaching some of the others how to defend themselves more effectively. Even if he was still sick, somewhere deep deep inside, Kaneki could allow himself this little happiness.  
  
  
He was stronger and so was his family.


	10. Wood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ghoul Restaurant has been reduced to little more than kindling and the CCG finally has a lead on the Gourmet case.

The infamous ghoul restaurant was a pile of splintered wood, cracked marble, and dead ghouls. Blood coated the floor and there were rinkaku fluids being identified all over the place. Akira had found kagune secretions that matched up to those found at the scene of each of the Gourmet’s hunts and speculations were flying around the room.   
  
  
Amon made eye contact with Nagachika ( _he was standing across the room with that disturbing “too-focused” air about him_ ). Nagachika jerked his chin sharply in the direction of a wrecked hallway and he moved away from Akira to investigate.  
  
  
A sinking sensation filled Amon as he stepped into what was blatantly a prep-room for the unlucky meal of the day. The room was nearly spotless, except for the three dead ghouls lying in the centre of the coffee table, the overturned drink, and a set of black-tie dinner clothes resting undisturbed on the back of a chair.   
  
  
Awhile ago, Akira had theorized that the Gourmet was “enslaved” by something, following it around from ward to ward. The scene before him and the kagune secretions in the main room told Amon exactly what the Gourmet was following.   
  
  
Nagachika entered the room quietly, giving him an appraising look.  
  


“He was here.”  
  


 Amon bluntly stated. Nagachika nodded, eyes glittering with interest and excitement that made his everyday face seem like a cheap replica.    
  


“The Gourmet is stalking him. He’s also working with him.”  
  


 Nagachika said, tone light and airy, giving away nothing substantial.  
  
  
It drove Amon a little crazy that even after forming a kind of allegiance with Nagachika, the guy still wouldn’t let him in on everything. Nagachika’s feelings about this whole matter were kept pretty far under wraps.  
  
  
Amon paused for a moment. He really wasn’t sure what he was feeling about this himself. He had felt dread knowing the Eyepatch had gotten himself into a dangerous situation and would certainly become the target of CCG investigation entering this room. However, now he also felt a thrill passing through him, anticipation flooding his body with the need to move and do something.  
  
  
Nagachika and himself had been preparing for the day they found Kaneki…probably since the last time they’d seen him. Privately, they intended to capture him before the CCG. Amon wanted his answers ( _and he wanted to see him as desperately as he suspected Nagachika did_ ) and Nagachika wanted to guarantee the safety of his friend.  
  
  
Amon would stab Nagachika in the back in a heartbeat if Kaneki turned out to be a threat to public safety ( _at least he thinks he would_ ) so he supposes the guy’s secrecy is reasonable. Speaking of secrecy, Amon could hear the soldiering footfalls of Akira coming his way.   
  
  
He couldn’t lie to his partner. He furtively shot a look at Nagachika, who shook his head marginally. Akira wouldn't listen to a damn thing out of Nagachika’s mouth, would she? Oh Father, he’d been preparing for this moment. He could do this.  


“Amon, Nagachika, we’re done here.” 

   
Akira said shortly, turning to leave the moment she entered the room. Startled, Amon trailed after her.  
  


 “Wait, what? But we just put together a major part of the case in that room and no one else has-“   


Akira cut him off, lifting her index finger,   
  


“Exactly, no one ELSE investigated it. **_You did_**. I’m assuming you found the missing piece?”   
  


Amon stared at her, disbelieving for a moment. Akira huffed good-naturedly, the corner of her mouth lifting as she spoke again, 

   
“Why would the Gourmet kill all the restaurants customers? Obviously he found something he likes better. You found out what it is.”  
  


“It’s the Eyepatch ghoul.”  
  


 Amon reported, grateful for his partner’s trust.  
  


“He’s been involved in a few cases before and I’ve run into him on several occasions. I’m not really surprised he’s acquired a stalker.”

   
 Akira quirks an eyebrow at that, giving him an interested grunt that makes Nagachika muffle a chuckle behind them.  
  


 “You’ve run into him before?”   
  


Akira clarified, trying not to let her curiosity show too greatly. Without thinking, Amon responded,    
  


“Only once or twice. He was at the Aogiri hideout. The ghoul in the red room.”  
  


Akira nodded, and they ventured outside in silence. Internally however, Amon kept repeating one thing.   
  
  
He wasn’t lying to his partner, but hiding details about Kaneki was hiding details about Rabbit ( _he'd left out the details of their first meeting_ ). He was essentially keeping Akira from her father’s killer ( _I’m going to Hell when this is all over_ ).  
  


Amon didn’t have long to wallow upon his team’s return to headquarters. The incident at the Ghoul Restaurant had apparently triggered a flurry of activity within the CCG and they wanted information from their last living source of it. His orders to go interrogate Donato ( _ **Father**_ ) were delivered the moment he set foot off of the elevator and he desperately did not want to go.   
  
  
Ever since his rendezvous with Nagachika he’d been sleeping far better, however he was aware that his emotional state was still unstable. Donato would be able to smell it on him, for Christ’s sake. He’d find his weakness within seconds of him entering the room and tear his throat out.  
  
  
Amon sighed and pushed his hair back out his face in frustration.  
  
  
Maybe he wasn’t going to Hell.  
  
  
**_Maybe he was already in it._**


	11. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donato has a talent for gas-lighting, Amon catches fire, and everybody gets a little burnt.
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Mentions of religious homophobia

Cochlea was as dank and cold as ever, but Amon was sweating heavily. He stood alone on the top level, patiently waiting for his escort. Akira had entered the office long ahead of him, and as such was not privy to his orders.  
  
  
He missed her fiercely at the moment. Some sarcastic quips and moral support would do wonders for his nerves.  
  
  
Hearing the sharp rhythmic clacking of the Cochlea guard approaching, Amon supposed this situation was for the best. Donato was hard on everyone’s psyche and he was betting he’d notice Amon’s change in partners. He’d definitely comment on Mado’s death.  
  
  
Amon didn’t want Akira to listen to that. Even though she put on a tough front, he could tell the circumstances of her father’s death weighed heavily on her soul.  
  
  
Amon exchanged somber greetings with the guard, advancing into the elevator and down into the S-ranked basement of the prison. The thought of sparing Akira’s feelings lifted his spirits a little and fortified his resolve to complete this mission ( _because he couldn’t come here alone again_ ). His escort waved him down the hall, gesturing to the 3rd cell as if he hadn’t been down here on countless occasions.  


Amon stood in front of a large plexiglass viewing window, refusing to meet the deranged gaze of the ghoul inside. Instead he chose to glance around at the decor and surpress an involuntary shiver.  
  
  
It seemed that the CCG had provided Donato with some amenities ( _likely in exchange for information, which he was probably now withholding and was almost definitely the real reason he was here_ ). His cell looked like a homely chapel.  
  
  
Amon could tell Donato was smirking, just barely restraining himself from needling him about his fear of churches. Amon fixedly ignored him, his gaze practically burning a hole in the crucifixion statue before him. He was still deeply religious ( _Catholic born and raised_ ) and found comfort in the figures, just not when they were arranged in a… _ **certain way**_.  
  
  
Finally, Donato heaved a sigh, reclining as much as he could in a straightjacket as he opened his mouth to speak.    


“Koutarou, my son. I’d ask what brings you here, but I already know!”  


 He greeted jovially, his rough baritone voice echoing down the halls. Even without looking him in the face, Amon could tell he was smiling in that crinkly, harmless old man way of his. Revulsion rippled through his body as Amon began his report,   


“The Ghoul Restaurant has been destroyed and its frequenters killed. It appears the the perpetrator was one of their own, a ghoul known as the Gourmet, alongside another _**low-ranking ghoul**_ , alias ‘Eyepatch’.”  


 Amon stated mechanically. Donato remained silent, so Amon assumed that he was interested in hearing the rest.    


“Recently the Gourmet’s hunting patterns have grown increasingly erratic and his eating habits lack their earlier specificity. He appears to be following and possibly working with Eyepatch. The CCG would like information about _**the Gourmet and the Ghoul Restaurant**_ to verify this hypothesis and to predict future behaviour in order to _**capture the Gourmet**_.”  


 He finished, finally looking into Donato’s eyes. His hands immediately began to shake, however, at the look in them.  
  
  
Donato looked excited, and sly, and entirely too invested in this conversation. Donato wasn’t a man to take his cards out of his sleeve unless he was had some sort of advantage over his conversational partner. That meant Amon had let something slip and that was going to go very very badly for his already fraying nerves.  
  
  
Donato’s grin was decidedly less “crinkly elderly grandfather” now and was steadily slipping into the uncanny valley. He leaned forward dramatically,  


“Information for information, Koutarou my boy. Tell me more about this Eyepatch and I might have a few things to say about a certain _**Mr. MM’s**_ behaviour.”  


Amon felt his face shuttering before he could stop it, causing Donato to quirk an eyebrow.

   
 “ _ **It doesn’t seem like you want to confess**_.” 

   
He quipped, staring Amon down. Though he tried to tamp down on it, Amon was feeling the beginnings of rage bubble up inside of him. He had to keep calm to get information and Donato was offering it to him on a silver platter. The confession remark annoyed him greatly, but he would have to plow forwards.

   
“What do you want to know.”  


 He responded, too flatly for it to really be a question. The corners of Donato’s mouth turned down in displeasure, but the light in his eyes still hadn’t gone out.  


“Why would Eyepatch want to take out the Ghoul restaurant?”    
 

Donato asked, shuffling his body forwards slightly. Amon resisted leaning backwards as he answered,

   
“Eyepatch is at odds with most of the ghoul world, it seems.” 

   
Donato hummed a little, looking unusually pleased. Amon’s skin crawled with apprehension as he awaited the next query.  


“Describe this ghoul’s mask to me.”   


Feeling safe enough with the question, Amon easily returned with the details he'd recorded into Eyepatch's file, 

   
“Black leather half-mask covering the mouth, nose, and _**one eye**_. The mouth is a red and white grin that unzips down the centre.”  


Practically vibrating in his seat now, Donato inquired;   


“What does she look like?”  


 ( _She?_ ) Amon swiftly ran through the entire conversation in his head, wondering if he had accidentally implied something about the ghoul’s sex. Discovering that he had not, Amon countered with,  


“He’s short, maybe around 5’6 or 5’7 and slight with grey eyes. He seems to be in his early 20’s, fair-skinned, and dark-haired. Correction: he used to have black hair. It seems to have gone white. His nails are also black. He-“

   
 Peals of loud, breathless laughter interrupted Amon’s rambling description. Donato was practically choking on his own amusement.   
  
  
Anger threatened to burst out from beneath Amon’s skin yet again, and he no longer had the restraint to stop it.   


“WHAT!? WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT, YOU BASTARD?”  


 He roared, prompting Donato’s laughed to increase both in volume and pitch. Amon’s hands spasmed as he rose to his feet and braced them against the window.  


 “WHAT THE FUCK IS SO FUNNY!?”  


He tried again, holding back from pounding on the glass. Donato wiped a tear from his eye as he analyzed Amon’s furious face.  


“Just when I thought choir boy Koutarou had awakened to women, getting all _**protective and personal**_ with a ghoul, it turns out he’s got it bad for another man!”  


 He cried gleefully, chortling to himself. Amon’s head jerked away so fast he was certain he had whiplash and he dug his knuckles into his breastbone, face ablaze with fury and confusion. Just as quickly as Donato’s amusement came, it left. His voice sudden became chilly as he continued, saying: 

   
“I always knew you were an abomination, Koutarou. _**You think your God won’t look at me, but it’s your kind that burned in Sodom**_.”  


Shame and humiliation hit Amon like a truck and he suddenly felt 12 again. He never believed his God felt that way ( _God loved everyone, didn't he?_ ), however Donato had insisted ( _at the time, Father was always right_ ) time and time again. Wasn’t that the reason so many boys had to leave the church ( _no he was eating them, he was lying_ )?  
  
  
Past and present were crashing into each other and Amon was too confused to separate the pieces ( _why was Donato saying this? Why would he assume something like this? Why was he wrong? How was he right?_ )  


“I always thought it was odd that you never fell in love, Koutarou. All the women in the CCG talk about is your pretty face. I never imagined you were a sodomite who was sleeping with a gh-“

   
 Amon slammed his fists into the plexiglass, not caring if he attracted the attention of his escort, not giving a fuck about the loss of information, about the Gourmet, or about Donato’s smug preacher face.   
  
  
Whirling on his heel and grinding his knuckles across his breastplate to the point of pain, he furiously strode down the hall. Donato’s mocking laughter followed him until the elevator doors slid shut. 

 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

The static sound of heavy rainfall filled the silence in the CCG cafeteria. The lunch-time rush had ended a few hours ago, leaving the room empty save for four people. Amon, Akira, Nagachika, and Shinohara were sharing a table, eating silently and exchanging furtive looks.  
  
  
Nagachika and Akira were engaged in a staring contest ( _doing that freaky silent communication thing that Shinohara has been observing more often than not lately_ ) over Amon’s head while Shinohara desperately tried to think of something to say.  
  
  
That morning he had suggested that the Gourmet Investigation Team eat a meal together in celebration of their recent insights into the case ( _they were hot on that bastard's tail_ ). He had an ulterior motive in asking ( _he knew Amon had seen Donato the day before_ ), but all-in-all the lunch was meant to a simple affair. He couldn't quite place where things had gone wrong.  
 

Shinohara was pulled from his contemplation for a moment as Nagachika arched an eyebrow at Akira and they both began to inch towards Amon ( _who was currently in the midst of bending the spoon encased in his white-knuckled fist_ ).  
  
  
Carefully aiming, Shinohara loaded a pea onto his spoon and fired it at Akira’s outstretched hand. Changing his course, Shinohara fired a chunk of potato at Nagachika’s forehead.  
  
  
Upon making contact, both young adults returned to their original positions looking offended. Finding himself on the receiving end of two twin glares, Shinohara massaged his forehead. Why was this happening, again?  
  
  
Across from him, Amon dropped his warped spoon and returned to fingering his cross in an angry fashion. Nagachika rolled his eyes so hard his head moved along with them, and Akira looked at him curiously from the corner of her eye.   
  
  
Ugh, Shinohara remembered now.     
 

It had all started early in the morning. Shinohara had expected Amon to sweep into the office trailing doom and gloom after interrogating Donato the night before. Jarringly, instead of looking depressed, Amon had entered the building looking well-rested for the first time in months and thoroughly relaxed. They had made nice small-talk with each other ( _carefully skirting around the topic of Donato_ ) and Amon had gotten to work.  
  
  
Soon afterwords, Nagachika had hurtled into the room, tripping over his own feet and nearly spilling coffee all over the carpet ( _for something like the 5th time_ ). He had immediately rushed over to Amon’s desk, saying that he’d gotten some information that he thought Amon would be interested in.  
  
  
Amon had politely declined Hide’s invitation to talk and had returned to sifting through a massive pile of paperwork, which was a pretty typical reaction to Nagachika’s outbursts. However, Nagachika had unexpectedly frowned and begun to badger Amon to hear him out.  
  
  
Shinohara had expected Amon to either give in to Nagachika’s demands or ignore him, allowing everyone to move on with their work. However, just as Akira padded into the office, his day took a turn for the worst. Amon had responded to Nagachika’s insistence with:  


“I would like to focus on other things for awhile, so I am putting our project on standby.”  


In a clipped tone.  
  
  
This somehow led Nagachika to positively explode with rage ( _which Shinohara hadn’t even known was possible_ ). Even more surprisingly, Amon had dragged the guy out of the office immediately after he started yelling ( _with a murderous expression that Shinohara had only ever seen him wear as a child_ ), leaving Akira standing in the doorway and Shinohara shell-shocked at his desk.  


The argument had ended quickly and Amon had returned to work, previous good mood nowhere in sight. Nagachika had stayed gone until Akira retrieved him ( _she said he was brooding on the roof and texting someone furiously_ ) and they had all left for lunch together.  
  
  
Amon’s mood had grown steadily darker the longer they all sat there and his fellow investigators seemed intent on making it worse.  
  
  
Shinohara wished with all his heart that Nagachika and Akira had never become friends. They had blatantly decided that Amon’s behaviour was unjustified and that he deserved punishment. The second he took his eyes off them he was certain they would start needling Amon again, taking turns until he went and curled up in a corner or something.  
  
  
Grumbling under his breath, Shinohara delivered a swift kick to Nagachika’s shins under the table as he opened his mouth. Nagachika shut his mouth with an audible click, but smirked immediately afterwords. Shinohara looked on in horror as he was too late to stop Akira from slamming her foot into Amon’s calves under the table  
  
  
. While Amon howled and the other two cackled, Shinohara decided to buy Suzuya some apple juice. As far as he was concerned, Suzuya was his favourite child now.

 

 

~~~~~~~~

 

“Why, I’m already practically a beam of the purest sunshine at my lowest points. If you let me come over and pet your cat, you might just contribute to global warming. For the sake of the environment, I’ll have to turn down that offer, Akira. Thanks for asking though.”  


Hide said warmly, pinning his cellphone to his ear with his shoulder as he unlocked his apartment door. Akira grumbled out a response that sounded suspiciously like a fond insult ( _sunbeams my ass, you’re the darkest person I’ve ever met_ ) and hung up on him as he stepped over the threshold.

   
Hide dropped the call as well and threw his phone and himself onto his bed. He huffed to himself as he pried off his shoes ( _he tossed them into the hallway and dirt flew absolutely EVERYWHERE_ ), playing through the days events in his head for the umpteenth time.  
  
  
As much as he reassured Akira about his mental state, Hide was flipping out internally. Forming an alliance with Amon had reduced the load on his shoulders drastically and had soothed the itch in his brain ( _where’s Kaneki, I wonder how he is, it’s been a long time and I don’t think he’s eating_ ) like nothing else could.

  
Now however, that same alliance was giving him a new itch, one that he couldn’t scratch. He had information to share, sheesh!

   
Yesterday he had managed to reconstruct a timeline of the Gourmet’s interactions with Kaneki based on a series of interviews he had spent that entire night conducting. He’d tracked down some ghoul who lived near the restaurant ( _while wearing the clothes of a ghoul that he’d been storing in a vacuum-sealed bag, which in hindsight was a creepy but excellent decision_ ) and had gossiped with them about anything and everything.   
  
  
Though it had taken hours and could’ve resulted in him becoming somebody’s dinner, Hide had eventually found a useful informant.

 

One ghoul had known several of the restaurant’s regulars ( _who he could talk about freely now that they were dead_ ) and had taken note of their comings and goings. The guy ran a coffee shop ( _which Hide was beginning to assume were exclusively ghoul-run_ ), the interior of which was entirely sleek maple-wood with arty lighting and big windows.  
  
  
Judging by the quality of it all, Hide had gone ahead and assumed that the guy was stacked ( _in the monetary sense_ ). He had then carefully complimented the guy on his taste, acting as if he was in awe of his surroundings.  
  
  
Inflating the ghoul’s ego did the trick and Hide gained access to a wealth of interesting information. Most importantly, it seemed that very few of the restaurant’s customers accompanied their meal to the drop-off point, opting instead to let “collectors” retrieve the goods.

 

Now, Hide had been positive that the Gourmet brought Kaneki to the restaurant once before ( _there was no other way Kaneki would know about the place and no other reason he would go_ ) and had a hunch that the Gourmet had brought him as food. He had based this hunch off of a theory of Akira’s.  
  
  
She had figured the Gourmet would only be enslaved by the ultimate meal, concluding that the person he was following must be somebody he failed to eat. Due to Kaneki’s status as a ghoul and job at Anteiku, Hide thought it would be easiest for the Gourmet to trick Kaneki into coming to the restaurant with him as a friend.  
  
  
That did not go in line well with kidnapping, so the Gourmet must have been with Kaneki in the area at some point. Both his and Akira’s theories were proved right when the ghoul he was chatting up complained avidly about “Mr. M.M.”, a snobbish man who frequented the restaurant and had complained about the ghoul’s “lack of refinement”.  


As if he were sharing a secret, the ghoul had smugly told Hide all about Mr. M.M.’s one and only faux pas: the night he personally accompanied his meal to the restaurant.  


“If that smug dick is so well-connected, why’d he have to play nice to get his side-dish to the restaurant? Honestly, even if the other guy was a ghoul too, he was clearly way too weak to resist. It was fucking embarrassing, I tell you. He was being such a suck-up, telling the guy, who looked like a freakin’ kid, how interesting and ‘trees byan’ he is and coming THIS CLOSE to rubbing up on him. Ghouls with money get someone else to do the legwork. What a goddamn hypocrite.”   


The ghoul had complained, rolling his eyes as he imitated Mr. M.M.’s simpering behaviour. Hide had pretended to be interested in the concept of cannabalism, expressing confusion about why Mr. M.M. would want to eat a ghoul ( _since they were supposed to taste so bad_ ).  
  
  
Hide shivered at the memory of the ghoul’s contemptuous expression slipping for an instant into serious contemplation ( _he had known that was the moment everything would come together_ ).  

   
“Here’s the thing; that kid smelled pretty great. I have a good nose but I’ve never smelled a ghoul quite like him before. It was mouth-wateringly human, y’know? The top note of ghoul was a real turn-off though, so I wouldn’t have eaten him myself, but I suppose those gourmets are into that kind of stuff.”  


And, in a perfect stroke of good luck, the ghoul’s expression had suddenly gone whale-eyed as his spine stiffened.   


“I actually smelled that exact same scent right before the restaurant was…oh God.”   


Hide had panicked with the man for awhile, freaking about how that weird kid must be the infamous One-Eye ( _interesting information Hide had filed away_ ) and how nobody was who they seemed ( _ironically_ ). Finally, he had slipped away and had worked furiously on his timeline all night, eventually narrowing down who Mr. M.M. likely was.  
  
  
All he had had left to do was alert Amon to the situation and question Touka a little, and they would’ve had a lead right to Kaneki.  


Of course, Amon had then gone and thrown that plan out the window. He’d decided to “take some time off” from their mutual search for Kaneki ( _what the HELL!?_ ) in order to focus on his work ( _even though Hide had information ABOUT THEIR WORK_ ). It was like the guy had changed personalities overnight or something.  
  
  
Hide rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow and screaming. He had no idea what he’d done to piss off the universe so much. Whatever Amon had going on, Hide was sure his sudden change of heart was unjustified.  
  
  
He suddenly became aware of the pricking in his eyes indicating that he was on the verge of tears. His apartment felt so much emptier now...he could finally see the vast scope of his mission. It felt like there was a chasm between himself and the goal ( _a deep dark valley filled to the brim with his loneliness and this feeling of absence_ ).  
  
  
Curling into himself, Hide whispered hoarsely to the lonely room,

   
 “Kaneki…I’m dying here, man.”

   
( _I want to go home, so come back quickly, ok?_ )

 

 

-POV Change-

 

Even though everything inside of him, down to his very bones, screamed at him to go home, Amon Koutarou entered a “social bar” for the first time in his life. The place was completely packed with people in their 20’s ( _probably university students from the surrounding area_ ) dancing, drinking, and flirting heavily.  
  
  
Amon eyed their movements with discomfort as a deep bass rhythm inspired everyone to begin grinding their hips together. He stood stock-still on the edge on the dance floor, unsure of how to proceed.  
  
  
Fortunately, two ( _inebriated_ ) women approached him and smiled kindly, asking for his company. They moved through the crowd to the bar as a single unit, both women holding tightly to his arms. He supposed his terror must’ve shown when he came into the room and that they were taking pity on him.  


Truthfully, he wasn’t really sure what he intended to accomplish by coming here ( _and hiding it from everyone he knew with a surprising amount of success_ ). After arriving at the bar, he offered to buy his saviours something to eat. They laughed ( _though he wasn’t sure why_ ) and ordered him a drink instead.  
  
  
Normally Amon did not drink much ( _his superiors enjoyed forcing him to consume copious amounts of alcohol and that always led to unpleasant symptoms the next day, ruining the concept of drinking for him_ ), however it seemed that was the socially appropriate thing to do in this situation.  


Several drinks later, Amon discovered that his new friends were very intent on being more than friends. They were both very nice people, though a little drunk and a bit loud, with a solid sense of dry humour ( _he was surprised at how many times they made him laugh and couldn’t help but feel that Akira would like them_ ) but he wasn’t finding himself overwhelmed with desire for them.  
  
  
In fact, he felt nothing but awkward when one of them suddenly lifted her chin and kissed him on the lips. Her friend seemed to take this moment as her cue to leave, good-naturedly announcing   


“I call first dibs next time, Sachi!”  


As she disappeared. After a few more attempts at getting some kind of sexual response out of Amon, Sachi pulled back and tried to focus her eyes on his face ( _she'd had way too much to drink_ ).   


“Oh, I’m sorry. You aren’t attracted to me, are you? I’m so embarrassed, I always make assumptions when I’m drunk, I’m sorr-“  


 Amon cut her off by leaning in and kissing her himself. Her torrent of apologies had reminded him yet again of Donato’s words. He hated that the old ghoul’s insults wouldn’t stop haunting him and he absolutely despised the fact that he wasn’t sure if he was right or not.  
  
  
It was true that Amon had never fallen in love. It was also true that he’d never experienced much attraction to anyone outside of his early childhood.  
  
  
After he’d entered the Academy he hadn’t really…thought about it. He actually had no idea what his sexual orientation was or anything of the sort ( _though he faintly remembered having something like a crush on an older boy from the city before one of the other church children had told him **what he** **actually felt was admiration**_ ) and found he couldn’t deny Donato’s claims completely.  


Though he was fairly certain what he was doing at the moment wasn’t proper procedure ( _no wining and dining or getting to know each other's full names_ ), Amon felt he would figure something out either way if he just…went for it.  
  
  
Sachi was beautiful, she was interested, and she was available. He rested his hands on her waist as she called a cab, inviting him to her apartment. He nodded stiffly, abandoning his drink to return to kissing her.  
  
  
He could do this. He didn’t feel anything yet, but he was sure Donato was wrong.  
  
  
_**Donato was always wrong.**_

  

 

~~~~~~~~

 

 

_**He couldn’t do it.**  
_


	12. Ash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burnt bridges aren't easily repaired and not every Dove carries an olive branch.

Lights flickered in and out of existence within Kaneki’s peripheral vision as he raced along the rooftops of the 4th ward, working his way towards the 20th. His fridge at home was looking a little empty, and though it made him uncomfortable to do so, Kaneki was going to retrieve some meat from Anteiku.  
  
  
He felt his food-runs were important to his bond with the crew of ghouls staying in his apartment. Though he still often starved himself, he did not want to reject their dietary needs ( _he'd never hurt Hinami like that ever again_ ). They were born ghouls and he felt guilt about his revulsion towards eating corpses. To assuage that, he had taken up the sole duty of collecting packages form Yoshimura on a monthly basis.  
  


This time it had only been three weeks since his last run, but Kaneki figured breaking his regular schedule wouldn’t be a problem for anyone. If he was being honest with himself though, his early run was actually an apology to both Banjou and Hinami. He knew his hunger was becoming apparent by his severely impaired healing ( _now approaching an almost human level_ ) and that they’d noticed even if they wouldn’t say anything.  
  
  
It was true that he had not really eaten in several months ( _he’d gotten a mouthful of ghoul back then, and afterwards he’d had some seriously disturbing nightmares that made eating seem…wrong_ ), and if he was going to start again, he’d have to gather more supplies. His fridge was stocked for five people, not six.   
  


Kaneki felt his mood lifting a little as he entered the 20th ward. Though he avoided entering the place if he could help it, the 20th ward was still where he’d lived until recent events. He always felt a nostalgic sense of coming home when he crossed its borders. Lately that happy feeling had been quashed, so its return was a nice change.   
  
  
Awhile back Touka had walked into one of his training sessions and demanded to move in with him. She had wanted to help him find Kanou, participate in Hinami’s education, and make sure he “didn’t get his ass killed”.  
  
  
Still, he couldn’t let her give up the life she’d built for herself. He couldn’t let Touka get hurt again ( _he’d never forgotten the image of someone who had always been so much stronger than himself broken and bleeding on the ground, or that she’d wound up that way in an effort to save him_ ) and so he had refused.

  
He knew she’d be angry and he knew it was wrong to stop only her from coming along, however he couldn’t force an agreement through his clenched teeth. Since then she’d been out of the shop whenever he visited and, according to Yoshimura, was skipping school on a regular basis. This time though, Touka wouldn’t know he was coming.  
  
  
Kaneki hoped he’d be able to talk to her for awhile, to reassure her that Hinami and himself were safe ( _she’d never say she was worried, but she was Touka. Of course she was worried_ ), and convince her to go back to school ( _her silent treatment and truancy wouldn’t change his mind and she was setting a bad example for Hinami_ ).   
  


As he neared Anteiku, Kaneki found his good mood waning as the amount of Doves he spotted increased. Though there were only several on patrol further out in the ward, dozens of investigators were hiding in the shadows and on the rooftops of the buildings within a block of the cafe. Eventually, Kaneki was forced to put on his mask as the risk of being spotted continued to climb.  
  
  
Soon he also had to retreat from the rooftops ( _due to his high visibility_ ), surrendering his ability to scope out the terrain ( _and locate sneaky Doves_ ). He took a moment to wonder why the hell no one had warned him that the 20th ward was crawling with Doves, before he belatedly realized ( _again_ ) that he wasn’t scheduled to be here for another week.  
  
  
Bemoaning his plans for an early visit, Kaneki slid from one alleyway to the next, praying to avoid bloodshed. In his half-starved state he was worried that his control would not hold up in an all-out fight. 

   
Unbelievably, Kaneki’s prayers were answered and he arrived in the cafe unharmed. Yoshimura greeted him with muted surprise from the counter and Kaneki told him what he needed, adding in a comment about the sheer number of Doves outside.  
  
  
As expected, Yoshimura was well-aware of their existence ( _trenchcoats and briefcases stand out in groups_ ), though Kaneki’s observation seemed to bring him down a bit. When he pressed Kaneki’s packages into his hands, he held onto them with some force.  


“If you see Touka or anyone else out tonight, could you convince them to leave the investigators alone? They are getting quite close to the cafe.” 

  
Yoshimura implored, giving Kaneki a razor-thin smile. He had nodded jerkily in response, determined to find all of his friends before he returned home that night. The idea of what Touka would do if she crossed paths with Doves in her home territory filled him with apprehension. Kaneki slipped on his mask as he walked out the door, zipping the mouth shut tightly _(it looked like he would be fighting again tonight_ ).  
  


Three streets down from Anteiku, Kaneki’s luck ran out. A humungous figure threw him into the wall of some dilapidated alleyway and pinned him there. The shadowy man held a quinque to his throat and was preparing to strike. Kaneki unleashed his kagune, readying himself to block the blow, when a familiar scent entered his nose.  
  
  
Startled, he squinted through the darkness, focusing on his assailant’s face. His gaze was met squarely by widening green eyes set under sharp, unusually-shaped eyebrows. Against his better judgement, Kaneki whispered,  
  


“Amon?”  
  


-POV Change-

  

After preparing for weeks, the CCG had arranged an ambush on the Dove-killer Rabbit in the 20th ward. Amon had followed his instincts to an alley outside the concentration zone ( _where most of the investigators had gathered_ ) in hopes of finally bringing Rabbit down. Over the past two months she had slaughtered nine of his coworkers and his personal grudge had changed form, becoming a raging inferno once again.  
  
  
The moment he had heard the rustling of fabric at the alley’s mouth, Amon had struck. He had been convinced he’d captured his mark and was greatly anticipating avenging Mado’s death. He’d been craving this moment since his fallout with Nagachika last month, practically salivating at the sense of purpose it rekindled.  
  
  
Essentially, he’d expected the exact opposite of what was happening to him now.    
 

Even before he’d heard his name ( _muffled as it was by the leather mask_ ), Amon knew who he’d plastered against a wall. Though the body between himself and the brick was considerably sturdier than he remembered, it was familiar enough that he’d recognized Kaneki in an instant ( _which was incredibly weird of him, seeing as people didn’t usually remember someone by the sensation of their body crushed against theirs_ ).  
  
  
Why was it now, after he’d stopped looking for him, in the worst possible situation, that he was face to face with the only ghoul he’d **_move_** for?  
  


Amon spared a moment to look over Kaneki’s body ( _he’d filled out some but his hair was still white and his nails were still black and he looked like he hadn't slept in a week_ ) and finally returned his gaze to those slowly hardening grey eyes.  
  
  
Before Kaneki could finish developing a glare ( _which Amon couldn’t really blame him for. He was being pinned to a wall by a person sworn to eradicate his kind_ ), Amon released him, backing away a step or two. 

  
“Kaneki, what the Hell are you doing here?” 

  
He hissed, glancing around furtively. He was outside the concentration zone and it was unlikely that other investigators were nearby, but he couldn’t help but be nervous. Adrenalin was singing in his veins and his skin was still sparking where it had touched Kaneki’s.  
  
  
It seemed that Kaneki was feeling the same, his gaze shifting from side to side, scanning the area as he flexed his hands rhythmically. Judging it safe to continue, Kaneki unzipped his mask and turned a sharp-edged look on him.

   
“I don’t remember giving you my name, Amon.” 

   
He whispered, sounding displeased.

   
"You didn’t, your friend just burst in and announced it instead.”

  
Amon responded automatically, throwing Kaneki’s words from the warehouse back at him.  
  
  
Abruptly, Kaneki's roughness dissolved ( _he snorted and covered his mouth, biting down on his finger to quell his chuckles in the most endearing way_ ) and Amon found himself a little warm at how natural the moment felt. Kaneki recovered quickly however, hurling,  
  


“Alright, I deserved that.”   
  


Back at Amon in an amused tone before stating,  
  


“I guess we’ve been formally introduced then.”

   
Amon found himself smiling despite the situation and answered with:

   
“Not quite. I don’t know your first name, do I?”

   
Kaneki stiffened ( _he'd stepped on a land-mine, hadn't he?_ ), relaxing only after scanning Amon’s entire face for ulterior motives ( _he probably didn’t look like much of a threat grinning like an idiot though_ ). Softly, Kaneki returned his smile ( _sadly,_   _it didn’t quite turn up all the way at the corners_ ), saying,

  
“I don’t know yours either, Investigator.”

  
And, though he leaned into Amon for a breath ( _since when had his forehead been close enough to brush his chest?_ ), his jaw clenched ( _Amon could here his teeth creaking_ ) and he looked away, muttering

  
“We should probably keep it that way.”  


The change in the conversational tone jarred Amon back to reality. It also made him notice that he’d stepped closer to Kaneki at some point during this brief exchange, practically looming over him ( _his hands were on the wall above Kaneki’s head and_ _the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, Christ_ ).  
  
  
Oddly, the little ghoul did not seem particularly phased, standing his ground with easy confidence. His only sign of unease was the death grip he'd developed on a brown paper bag in his right hand, half-concealed behind his body.  
  
  
Despite himself, Amon peered at it curiously, however Kaneki fluidly tucked it into a pouch on his hip and hid it from view. Amon leaned back, giving the ghoul some space without putting any real distance between them. Kaneki then leaned forward ( _again_ ), refocusing Amon’s attention as they locked gazes ( _not that he could look away for long in the first place_ ). 

   
“What’s going on? Why are you here?”

  
Kaneki asked, an edge of urgency leaking into his tenor voice, previous camaraderie nearly forgotten. Ignoring the sting of disappointment in his chest ( _he’d think about that later_ ), Amon got down to business. Familiar fire blazed in his heart as **_why he was here_** came to the forefront of his mind.  
  


“Your friend, Rabbit, actually.” 

  
He answered, tone becoming heated and trembling with anger.  
  


“I don’t understand you, Eyepatch. You ask me not to make you a murderer and then you just…you’re just! **_You don’t act like a ghoul_** but then your friend goes and commits countless murders!”   
  


Kaneki flinched minutely when he said Eyepatch ( _withdrawing further into the wall like a scolded child_ ) and became progressively stiller and stiller as Amon's rant continued to tumble from his lips ( _though he was frantically scrambling to stop_ ).  
  


“Why don’t you make any sense!? **_Why are your friends killing all of mine????_** ”

  
Amon demanded to know, pushing up against Kaneki roughly, expression twisting in hurt and self-loathing.  
  


The ghoul let himself tip backwards, plastering himself completely to the brick and placing his hands Amon’s shoulders as they shook with rage ( _despair_ ). Kaneki’s expression had become one of profound disappointment and when he spoke his voice was laced with regret.   
  


“I have a lot of questions for you too, Amon.”

  
He murmured, letting his eyes slip shut ( _completely vulnerable in front of the enemy_ ). 

  
“However, now isn’t the time for answers. I can’t ask you to let me go, but-“

  
“But your loyalties lie somewhere else and I’m going to have to stop you.”  
  


Amon cut in with a raw voice, staring wild-eyed into Kaneki’s peaceful face. He wanted him to open his pale-grey eyes and let him see what he was thinking ( _right now he looked like a porcelain doll instead of a person, making it far too easy to keep yelling at him **though he wanted to stop**_ ).  
  
  
Just when he was about to do **_something_** ( _he could feel Kaneki’s muscles tightening under his fingers and knew that the tension had finally reached its breaking point_ ), Amon heard a long low whistle, the signal for an investigator approaching.  
  
  
Unwittingly, he shifted his body in front of Kaneki's, moving to conceal him ( _right Amon, attack a guy then hide him from harm, makes sense_ ), only to find he was no longer there.   


A red glow illuminated the alley in an instant and Amon heard the sound of metal grinding against metal. Kaneki had zipped his mask shut and his kagune was unfurling behind him. The gigantic structure ( _when had it gotten so massive and twisted?_ ) popped and crackled, its form stretching and bulging.  
  
  
Kaneki’s face was scrunched up in concentration as his kagune began to take a distinctly familiar form. The rinkaku had been bent into the form of a single flared wing, pulsing on and off, giving it the rudimentary appearance of an ukaku.  
  
  
Amon nearly groaned in exasperation when he caught on to what Kaneki was planning. Sure enough, the Dove entering the alley called out to him in surprise, immediately unveiling their quinque.  
  
  
Suddenly, he felt the brush of lips on the outer shell of his ear ( _causing a thick liquid shiver to pass from there straight to his hips_ ) as Kaneki wrapped his arms around his shoulders and forced him to bend to the shorter man’s height ( _which made him think about several failed visits to clubs and bars, his empty apartment, and the niggling feeling he’d been keeping under wraps_ ).  


“You’d better get your subordinates out of here. _**Trust me**_ and my friends won’t be killing your friends tonight.”

  
Came Kaneki’s voice, placid with an undercurrent of steely resolve. Amon glanced up at the nearby rooftops, swearing under his breath at what he saw there. Three silhouettes were just barely visible above him ( _a crow, a plain mask, and a rabbit_ ), crouched down low. Kaneki’s arms released their hold on him, dashing his quinque to the ground ( _still within reach. Considerate_ ) as he fled.  
  
  
The Dove sprinted past Amon in pursuit as he scooped up his quinque. Fear was making his hands numb ( _how the Hell had they set up an AMBUSH of all things???_ ), but Amon managed to activate his walkie, calling in to his commanding officer.  
  
  
He had to play this right to leave the alley alive. He knew he couldn’t take down three ghouls at once alone and some part of him wanted to trust Kaneki. Just for once, he wanted something to go right ( _he was sick of the hatred and confusion twisting him up_ ). _**He wanted to have faith again.  
**_  

“Hello, m’am? An officer is in pursuit of a ghoul suspected to be Rabbit. They are headed out of the 20th ward and are requesting backup.”  
  


Amon strode out onto the dark streets of the 20th ward, trying to make his movements look as natural as possible. Soon, he felt the eyes that had been trained on him move away, likely in pursuit of Kaneki. Exhaling slowly, Amon listened to the clamour of a dozen or so Doves headed unknowingly away from their target.  
  
  
Shifting his focus upwards to the night sky, Amon wondered about what on Earth he was doing with his life. He’d betrayed the CCG tonight.

  
Worst of all .. . _**he didn’t regret it.** **  
** _

 

-POV Change- 

 

Kaneki stopped running when he reached a bridge hanging over a river at the edge of the ward. He didn’t bother pretending to be exhausted, turning to face his opponent when they finally caught up, short on breath. He’d intended to reveal his ruse a little sooner but he wasn’t sure whether or not Amon had caught on ( _he hadn’t exactly given the clearest instructions_ ).  
  
  
As it was, he’d wound up escaping far further than expected and expended more energy than he would’ve liked ( _the hunger was clawing at his stomach with sharp nails. He really regretted letting himself get close enough to breathe in Amon’s scent earlier. It had rattled his bones and excited his ghoulish hunting instincts_ ). Kaneki allowed the sweat-soaked Dove to get a good look at him, waiting for the realization to hit their face ( _he was actually pretty surprised that the man had assumed he was Touka the entire way_ ).

   
Immediately afterwards, Kaneki wrapped his kagune ( _now in a much more comfortable shape_ ) around the investigator, divesting them of their quinque and, after a moment’s hesitation ( _in which he nearly went for a taste due to the man’s soft body. He’d noticed lately that such people made him hungrier than usual, reminding him of Rize and subsequently repulsing him enough that the pain in his stomach faded_ ), dumping them into the river ( _thankfully masking the scent of flesh flesh_ ** _flesh_** ).

  
As he started to leave, Kaneki heard the investigator’s cry of dismay coming from below the bridge. A flicker of concern caused him to turn back, peering over the railing. The Dove appeared unharmed but they were flailing around wildly in the water.  
  
  
When they finally noticed Kaneki’s curious gaze, they stopped their motions, eyes locking onto the briefcase in his hands ( _ah, so they’re like Amon? Great, now he felt bad for them_ ).  
  
  
Awkwardly, Kaneki tried to unzip his mask ( _tugging extra hard when the zipper stuck_ ) and leaned farther over the railing, calling out,

  
“Is this important to you?” 

  
The man in the water made a thunderstruck expression ( _Kaneki was beginning to wonder if every investigator would make that face at him_ ) and continued to look at him, uncomprehending. Kaneki sighed and dangled the briefcase over the edge of the river, glancing at it pointedly. After a long drawn-out silence ( _in which Kaneki considered leaving several times_ ), the investigator finally nodded meekly.  
  
  
Nodding back, Kaneki dropped the briefcase in the river ( _the whole situation was already ridiculous, he wasn’t going to make it worse by placing a weapon right in the guy’s hands_ ) and hoped it didn’t get lost in the water. As he strolled away, he heard a happy cry.  
  
  
He wound up grinning to himself ( _Amon, that idiot, had made him go all_ s _oft-hearted_ ).

 

_~~~~~~~~~_

 

Bright white lights and the scent of bleach were causing Kaneki to develop a headache ( _as if he didn’t already have one_ ). For what must’ve been the tenth time that day, he heaved a sigh, twirling his body in the metal chair, shoes squeaking against the ground.

  
“Stop that.”

  
Uta admonished, swatting at Kaneki’s feet distractedly. He completely missed ( _just like he had the last ten times_ ), not taking his eyes off the scrap of leather in his lap. Kaneki held in the next sigh, choosing instead to concentrate for awhile on Uta’s hands adeptly stitching up his mask ( _he couldn’t believe he’d ripped it_ ).   
  


Kaneki glanced around for a clock and, finding none, returned to moping in the swivel chair he’d commandeered the moment he’d entered Hy Sy. He knew he was being childish sulking like this, but he was sad and Uta’s shop had a relaxing atmosphere.  
  
  
Yomo and Uta often brought him here after training, eventually causing him to relate the place to physical exertion and the fuzzy afterglow that came with a good fight. At first he’d been against it ( _a waste of time_ ), but after being forced countless times, he found he was almost ( _definitely_ ) fond of the ritual.  
  
  
Yomo and Uta would drink blood-wine ( _he’d abstain, fermented blood did not seem palatable at all_ ) and, if he’d stay long enough, share whatever information they’d gathered from the area. Half of it was petty gossip ( _the two of them were like stereotypical housewives),_ but it’d been enough to convince him to stick around ( _though thinking back on it now, Kaneki wondered if he was just lonely_ ).  
  
  
Now here he was under the pre-tense of repairing his mask when all he really wanted to do was talk. He sent a sharp glare at the side of Uta’s head, knowing the bastard probably had every idea what he was here for. A smirk snuck onto Uta’s face as he watched, causing Kaneki to growl under his breath,

  
“Asshole.” 

  
After a few more torturous minutes ( _Uta was clearly working extra slow_ ), Kaneki’s mask was good-as-new and placed back in his hands. Muttering under his breath, Kaneki waited for Uta to say something. All he got was a carefully practiced blank look instead.  
  
  
Flustered, Kaneki realized that he had to say something and that Uta couldn’t possibly know what exactly he wanted to say. Ferociously embarrassed and trying to conceal it, Kaneki found himself returning his mentor’s blank look while trying to gather his thoughts.  


He didn’t want to whine to Uta ( _that would be humiliating_ ), but he did want to talk about what was weighing on his mind. He couldn’t really bring it up conversationally ( _oh hey, Uta-san! Guess why I’m miserable today?_ ) and Uta wasn’t giving him any kind of lead-in to the topic.  
  
  
Oh wow, he was really struggling with this ( _well, that’s what happens when you don’t really talk to anyone for months_ ). It’d be great if someone could give him some advic——perfect.  
  
  
Leaning his chin on his left hand, Kaneki asked,

  
“Uta-san, could I ask for your advice on something?”   
  


Uta was smiling even if it wasn’t on his face ( _Yomo had told him about this, how Uta could tease you without even saying anything. Yomo hadn’t told him how grating it was though_ ), letting him know that he was totally transparent.   
  


“Of course you can, Kaneki-kun. I’m not very good at giving advice though.”

  
Now the smile was on his face.

  
“I suppose it’s good that you don’t need any advice, hmmm?”

  
Annnnd there it was. Kaneki made a sour expression, but chose to continue on his intended path anyway.  
  


“Last night I went to Anteiku to get some supplies and accidentally walked right into a CCG ambush for Touka. I diverted their path and it got called off in the end.”

  
Kaneki reminisced, pausing to make sure Uta was paying attention. He was, but his eyes were sparkling in amusement in an unexpected way. Kaneki supposed that he already knew what was coming next ( _he thought he’d spotted a straw-man mask that night, but now he was sure_ ).  
  
  
He waited for a beat, but Uta remained silent, gesturing for Kaneki to continue ( _how much had he seen that night? He really hoped Yomo and Uta hadn’t spotted Amon. Those gossips would have a field day and he didn’t want to have to explain their relationship, whatever it was_ ).  
  
  
Fighting back his shame, Kaneki went on, saying

  
“So Touka tracked me down early this morning, chucked me at the ground, and yelled at me for getting in the way.”

  
Uta was full-blown grinning now, all sharp teeth and mockery. Kaneki wasn’t paying attention to his face anymore though, his self-decrepitating humour taking a backseat as he sunk back into what was really bothering him.  
 

“She told me I was a coward and that trash like me should stay away from Anteiku.”

   
He ground out, hollowly regarding his spotless hands ( ** _monster_** ) with their black nails.

  
“Advice eh? I think I have something for this situation.”

  
Uta’s bland tone pierced Kaneki’s reverie. The total disregard for his feelings was enough to pull him back from the pit, bringing indignation to the forefront of his mind instead.

  
“Wha-“ 

  
He began, but Uta smoothly cut him off with a story. 

  
“Awhile back, I noticed that cowards dress up like tough guys. The most pathetic humans I’d ever met would deck themselves out with tattoos and piercings. They decorated themselves like a cat puffing up its fur.” 

  
Uta mused, staring at a spot somewhere over Kaneki’s left ear, totally ignoring him.   
  


“I wondered what the point of it was, so I tried it out myself. Of course, the needles I had couldn’t pierce ghoul flesh. Even though I didn’t succeed in breaking skin, I figured out why people would want to.”

  
He smiled faintly, running his fingers across the tattoo on his collarbone.  
  


“When people get hurt, it leaves behind a _**permanent mark**_. It represents something, like pain they’ve endured. It was such a romantic concept that I couldn’t forget about it.” 

  
Now Uta was looking at Kaneki. It was his turn to make sure his audience was focused. 

  
“Ghouls don’t need to remember pain, you know. Pain doesn’t mean a thing to us anyway. _**Life is pain**_. Still, eventually I managed to ‘find’ some quinque metal and found there were things I didn’t want to forget.”  
  


Now Uta sharply tapped one of his earrings, drawing Kaneki’s attention to it ( _a red chain etched into a solid black ring_ ).  
  


“Things I’ve lost. Things I’m afraid of losing. Milestones of my life, I suppose. I carved them into my skin so that they’ll never come out. It’s the most _**human**_ thing about me, I think.”   
  


He stated in a nostalgic tone, captivating Kaneki. This was probably the most information about Uta he’d ever received and he was startled at the poetic nature of the ghoul’s thoughts. He’d never cared much for things like piercings or tattoos ( _people with them were scary, once upon a time_ ) but this…he wanted to write this down. For the first time in ages, his hands itched for a pen. Seeing his fingers twitch, Uta’s face was transformed with a fox’s grin. 

  
“Artists understand each other, I see.” 

  
He said, leaning towards Kaneki ( _who leaned in as well_ ).

   
“I’m still a _**ghoul**_ though. When I don’t need to _**remember**_ anymore, I can just take out the piercings. They’re gone in a day. The tattoos can always change, too.”   


Kaneki nodded in comprehension, running through the dichotomy in his mind ( _human and ghoul_ ). Uta suddenly stood, rifling through a drawer.

  
“So, Kaneki-kun,”

  
Uta began, turning around, forceps and a piercing gun in gloved hands.

  
“Would you like your burdens to take a physical form?” 

  
He nodded ( _this was so fucked up_ ).

  
_~~~~~~~~~_

  

A week later Kaneki’s problems hadn’t disappeared, but the industrial piercing in his left ear had. Even for a ghoul, his healing rate was off the charts ( ** _monster_** ). He guessed that he should’ve seen this coming and that he should just accept his fate ( ** _it’s what he was now_** ). Against his own advice however, Kaneki had found himself back inside of Hy Sy.  
  


As the needle had broken his cartilage again ( _the pain was soothing_ ), Uta had told him that maybe his body’s rejection of one of his last tenuous connections to humanity was a good thing. Before he had been able to let his incredulity show, Uta had pierced the other ear as well. He then told Kaneki that his burdens would be impermanent too.  
  
  
The idea still soothed his heart ( _he'd always had a weakness for allegories_ ) even after the burn in his ears faded away ( _replaced by a solid weight more grounding and lasting than the pain_ ).  
  


He hadn't bothered asking Uta what the second piercing was for. Kaneki knew now that Uta had seen him and Amon that night ( _Kaneki had saved his life and Amon had lied to his superiors in exchange. That wasn't something Uta would even pretend not to see_ ).  
  
  
Fingering the shiny titanium ring, Kaneki knew he needed to see him again. The investigator wasn’t someone he should forget ( _he made him feel safe; he wanted to trust him_ ).  
  
  
Without a doubt, Kaneki would answer his questions someday and he’d answer his.  
  
  
A ghost of a grin crossed his face at the idea ( _perhaps they’d get that formal introduction after all_ ).

 


	13. Greaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The CCG holds a meeting to judge "an unfortunate existence" and the truth finally comes to light.

The scent of burnt coffee lingered in the air of the main meeting room of the CCG offices. Mugs of it sat forgotten on the wide table, resting before the entirety of the special and first classes. The directors sat with stiff spines, faces grim as they observed the faces of the gathered investigators. The assemblage sat in a loaded silence with pale skin and wide eyes.   
  
  
The news that had just been delivered to them was understandably shocking, however the initial surprise seemed to have passed for many. The thick tension that weighed down the atmosphere now was the kind that developed when **_words were being held back_**.   
  
  
Detachedly, Amon decided that their silence was understandable. Speaking up now would be the equivalent of pulling the trigger in a game of Russian Roulette. If they said the right thing, they’d be shooting a blank. The wrong thing though…that’d be career suicide.   


Amon, unlike the others, wasn’t silent because of doubt. His terror was very tangible, not the vague sense of something massive behind him. He knew that when it was **_his turn_** to pull the trigger it would be a bullet.   
  
  
Kaneki Ken was a half-ghoul and it was up to the CCG to decide his fate. No matter what decision the investigators before him made, Amon knew his wouldn’t match it ( ** _he’d been moved while they'd stayed fixed_** ).  
  
  
He felt like he watching himself from above ( _this was suicide_ ) as his gaze landed on Nagachika through the window of the door. The devious bastard’s lip quirked for a moment and he nodded at Amon ( _he knew about this, **he knew this was coming**_ ). Amon felt himself nodding back ( _he was going to die, wasn’t he?_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki Ken wasn’t going to be killed, or  jailed, or experimented on ( _please God, please no_ ).  
  
  
Not if they could stop it ( ** _they would_** ).

 

  _~~~~~~~~~_

 

Two weeks later Amon found himself back in the same meeting room under a very different atmosphere. This time Shinohara was managing the meeting and he was pacing the room, furiously waving his hands as he spoke. 

  
“Kanou, that _**monster**_ , stole surgical equipment from us and went underground to do this!!! To make a Frankenstein's monster out of some kid! Lord, what if he’s doing it to other people? **_What if he already has!?_** ”   
  


Shinohara ranted, his footfalls becoming erratic and his face growing ruddy with passion. Amon’s own blood boiled, but he managed to keep himself from exploding. He’d been prepared for today, debriefed by Nagachika ( _who was Kaneki Ken’s freaking childhood friend and knew he was a half-ghoul since forever. Amon still couldn’t believe he’d kept a ticking-timebomb of a topic under wraps this entire time_ ), who “happened” to be at the meeting this time.   
  
  
More like he’d manipulated Shinohara into letting him participate as part of Amon’s team ( _which was ridiculous because the events of this meeting literally had nothing to do with his team and Amon wasn’t supposed to have told him anything about the past meeting AND this was going to get them exposed, especially if Akira kept side-eyeing Nagachika like he was up to something... oh God was she_ ** _passing him a note!_** _?_ ).  
  
  
Shinohara’s tirade was finally dying down, his breath coming in massive heaves. Though the room was settling down in preparation for a serious discussion, Amon found that the anxiety wouldn’t leave him. Nagachika had been quiet so far but he had the worst feeling that something was going to happen.   
  


About ten seconds later, Amon decided he was going to die a premature death due to cardiac arrest. Nagachika smiled his creepy shark smile ( _eyes closed, grinning widely with all his teeth showing in a way other people seemed to find endearing????_ ) at Amon before abruptly letting his face fall into the apologetic and frightened face of a witness at a trial.  
  
  
He reached over next to him and grasped Akira’s hand for a fleeting instant. She looked at him askance for a moment ( _Nagachika you idiot, her instincts are too good to fall for that_ ) before she squeezed his hand and frowning in concern ( _that was an act... right Nagachika? Because if he was scared, **Amon was terrified**_ ).   
  
  
He startled, coming to a horrible realization ( _he wouldn’t. No way_ ).  
  
  
Nagachika stood, dropping Akira’s hand as he turned his fearful expression full-force on the crowd of investigators. Shinohara cut off the tail-end of his rant to ask

  
“Nagachika? What is it?” 

  
In a worried paternal tone.  
  
  
Nagachika let out a shuddery exhale before seemingly gathering himself ( _he’s actually scared oh no oh no oh no he's going to do it son of a-_ ) and flatly stating,

  
“Kaneki Ken is my best friend. I’ve been looking for him for months.” 

 

_~~~~~~~~~_

 

Amon was going to slaughter Nagachika the moment everyone had their backs turned. His damned **_confession_** had gotten Amon’s whole team placed on the massive squad hunting Kaneki, who the ENTIRE CCG now knew was being trailed by the Gourmet. As in the CCG now knew FULL WELL where Kaneki had been fairly recently and suspected where he would be in the future ( _following clues to finding Kanou, according to Nagachika_ ).   
  
  
Nagachika’s fucking plan was going up in smoke and Amon KNEW he was too smart to do this by accident.  
  
  
Amon's fingernails dug sharply into the skin of his palms as he glared daggers at Nagachika, who was having his shoulders rubbed soothingly by Akira. The meeting was ending soon and Amon could only pray Akira would be distracted by something for long enough to miss her best friend being launched out a window by her partner. 

 

_~~~~~~~~~_

  

 “You- _ **you idiot**_! You conniving fox!!!! What the hell did you do any of that for!?” 

  
Amon burst out, trying to resist the urge to strangle Nagachika. They were standing alone in the men’s bathroom on the fifth floor, where the bookstacks of ghoul profiles and investigative information from closed cases was kept. No one ever came there, making it the perfect place for Amon to stab Nagachika in the back ** _in the literal sense_ ** as compensation for the metaphorical back stabbing that’d occurred in the earlier meeting.   
  
  
Nagachika, bless his soul, didn’t smile at his distress for once. Instead he put on his serious mask, quieting Amon’s murderous intentions.   
  


“What were you intending to do when we found Kaneki, Amon?”    
  


Nagachika demanded crisply. Amon made to answer him, only to realize that he had never thought too deeply about it. After a moment’s consideration, he came to a jarring realization.   
  
  
Originally, he had completely intended to hand Kaneki over to his superiors. He had wanted to question the half-ghoul himself, but had otherwise placed his faith in the judicial system of the CCG. Now, however…  
  


“Honestly, Nagachika? I would…prefer it if the commission of counter-ghoul measures did not have direct sole access to Kaneki Ken.”

  
He grimaced at his own words, forging onwards,

  
“Being unable to guarantee his safety makes me…uncomfortable. I am concerned that his rather destructive tendencies will result in some, err, biased treatment.”

  
He finished, unable to look Nagachika in the eye, rubbing his knuckles against his breastbone ( _in the first meeting, when someone had finally spoken…it had been about how the half-ghoul had destroyed the restaurant and the rumours of the strength of half-breeds…there had been discussion of experimentation…of the human rights of a murderer: someone who killed to eat_ ).   
  
  
He knew that Kaneki would not receive justice. Amon knew he hadn’t killed anyone, however there was no method of verification. Every investigator knew of the raw power a ghoul’s hunger had over them. They would find human meat in his system and they would assume he’d killed ( _Amon had seen the paper bag in the alleyway. Kaneki was definitely eating and he wasn’t hunting to do it_ ).  
  
  
Disconcerted by his shift in attitude towards his organization, Amon finally looked to Nagachika in hopes of having his opinion validated. Confusingly, the guy was just standing there giving him his 1000 watt smile. Ignoring Amon’s questioning expression, Nagachika clapped a hand onto his shoulder, suddenly more buddy-buddy than he’d ever been ( _if that was even possible_ ).  
  


“Good choice, Koutarou. You pass.”    
  


** What the fuck.   
  
**

“You told them…everything…for this!?”

  
Amon sputtered.

  
“ ** _You revealed you_** ** _r best friend’s location to a group of ghoul-killing experts to see whether or not I would protect him?_** ”   
  


His vision was redding out. Nagachika was bad for his health ( _he strongly wished he could go for a run or something right now, something to calm him down_ ). The little fucker just goddamn gazed at him, taking in every little micro expression of his near-apocalyptic animosity.

   
“Of course. If you had’ve chosen to do anything else, my plan would’ve required some...changes.”

  
Nagachika passively agreed. He looked immensely self-satisfied. That satisfaction narrowed into a razor’s edge as he continued though, voice growing aggressive;

  
“You would’ve been removed from the equation. And from the job. I would’ve pretended to keep you in loop and blamed Kaneki’s escape on you.” 

   
Amon’s eyebrows lifted up into his hairline while he took a half-step back in alarm. He’d always suspected it before, but Nagachika had some scary thoughts floating around in that head of his. His alarm quickly faded however, when he thought about how those scary thoughts were always in defence of Kaneki.

  
“If you care so much about him, why did you expose to him to even more danger!? That’s worse than anything I could’ve done!!!!”   
  


He groaned, tearing at his hair in frustration. He really couldn’t understand a single thing Nagachika did. Nagachika dissolved into boyish laughter, looking like he didn't have a care in the world. 

  
“Ah, Koutarou, that’s what you’re so worried about? This is all part of a long contingency plan.”

  
Nagachika managed to get out between guffaws, wiping tears from his eyes. He clapped Amon on the shoulder again before saying, 

  
“I’ll fill you in on everything later. See you at 7 in Second Meeting.” 

  
And taking a few steps towards the doorway. Though he still had his doubts ( _who wouldn’t??_ ) Amon hurriedly agreed. Nagachika disappeared through the doorway and Amon wondered for the thousandth time what exactly he had gotten himself into.

 

_~~~~~~~~~_

  
Sitting in Nagachika’s apartment in the 20th ward, Amon came to the conclusion that the meeting at the bookstore was some kind of final test. Since he was here, he supposed that he had passed. Nagachika’s apartment gave off the impression of having never accommodated guests. This impression was verified time and again with every new room he had walked past in order to sit at Nagachika’s kitchen table.   
  
  
Judging by the insanely detailed ghoul profiles and investigation portfolios ( _that had been stolen, gone missing, or had been illegally copied from CCG archives_ ) scattered everywhere, the mind-map on the wall ( _filled in with the details of the Gourmet case and personal information about Kaneki Ken, as well as some other data Amon wasn’t sure how Nagachika had gotten a hold of_ ), the towering stacks of some rather…unique books, and the series of three leather-bound colour-coded journals that Nagachika had told him contained his “contingency plans”, if anyone other than himself were to visit, Nagachika would be in prison. Especially due to the contents of those plans.   
  


The reason Nagachika had alerted the CCG to Kaneki’s movements had been a risky gamble. He was thinking of using the investigative prowess of the organization to track Kaneki in a shorter time period than it would take him alone. He was apparently certain he could find Kaneki by himself, but “ ** _something was wrong_** ” and he wasn’t willing to wait.   
  
  
Assuming the CCG could hunt down Kaneki within the next few weeks, Nagachika had three possible plans that hinged on differences in how events unfolded. They all boiled down to the same idea though: use the CCG to corner Kaneki and block his escape, then steal him from them.   
  


At the moment, Amon was by himself at Hide’s kitchen table with a cup of bitter black coffee. Oddly, Nagachika hadn’t had any sugar or milk in the apartment and had absent-mindedly chugged down the disgusting drink without even a flinch. When he had realized Amon ( _or most people_ ) couldn’t do the same, he had excused himself to borrow some from his neighbours.   
  
  
Amon was trying not to think too hard about the **_implications_** of that. He was immensely grateful for the time alone however, even if he wasn’t happy about the coffee ( _the taste clung to his throat_ ). He needed to think about **_what he wanted_** from this situation.  
  


Though he wanted to question Kaneki Ken and protect him from the destruction that was about to rain down on his doorstep, he wasn’t sure if this was right.   
  
  
Did Kaneki need their help? Would he forgive them for cornering and capturing him? How would he respond to being separated from the other ghouls ( _who he was protecting with his life_ )? Could Amon disappear completely from his career at the CCG to achieve this goal?   
  
  
He had his doubts about the society he was living in, but he wasn’t positive that the CCG’s concept of justice was wrong. He’d saved many families through his work, comforted the grieving, and buried the dead. Nagachika seemed convinced that Kaneki couldn’t continue on his path alone (" _this isn’t all there is. When you are stronger, you can change your path"_ ) and that the world needed to change. But Amon…wasn’t so sure.   
  


The door creaked as Nagachika slipped back into the apartment, balancing a bag of milk and a measuring cup filled with sugar on one arm. Cheerily, he called out 

  
“I’m home!” 

  
To which Amon did not reply. Quickly, Nagachika fixed his coffee ( _he added a stupid amount of sugar, but whatever_ ) and sat back down. He scanned Amon’s face briefly and then returned to his previous topic of conversation.   
  


“I need the opportunity to make sure Kaneki is ok and to tell him I know about his situation. He has to know that people understand him and that some don’t think he’s a monster.”

  
Nagachika murmured, letting his sunny facade drop immediately. He turned his pale concerned face downwards, gazing at his hands ( _split cuticles, chewed nails, and bloody fingertips_ ) in his lap.   
  


“Kaneki nearly killed me when he first changed. He starved himself until he nearly lost it. I don’t think he could ever forgive himself if this continued long enough for him to actually kill someone. Ghouls are hunting him, humans are hunting him, somebody made him this way on purpose…there’s no way he’s going to get a free pass.”

  
Nagachika’s voice picked up with the strength of his conviction and his shoulders shook minutely. 

   
“He’s going to be pushed to the brink. He’s already traumatized. Even if he’s hiding it, **_and I know that he’s hiding it_** , that ridiculous idiot. Kaneki’s been hurt so many times before. I can’t sit back and watch his whole life become a tragedy.”

   
Now he was looking at Amon and his eyes were pleading and passionate. He looked just like him when he joined the CCG, just like Kaneki when he begged to be let go, like countless others he’d moved for.

  
“Kaneki hasn’t done anything wrong. But he’s an idiot and he’s going to die like this.”

  
Nagachika nearly shouted. Then his face contorted in vicious mockery, condemnation aimed at someone else (it was  _an old hurt and an important one_ ),

  
“He thinks it’s better to be the **_person who gets hurt instead of the person who hurts othe_** r. Like a saint. All goddam saints are martyrs though. He should know that. **_He knows all martyrs **die bloody a** nd alone_**.”

 

_~~~~~~~~~_

 

Jogging through the city at 3am, Amon was assailed by memories. Kaneki Ken ( _he’d never get tired of saying his full name, that formal introduction_ ) crying when they fought. His terror and self-doubt after torture. The steel spine he’d retained throughout the entire ordeal. His loyalty, his desperation to protect what was his ( _saints die bloody and alone_ ), his gentle voice, mist-grey eyes, soft white hair.   
  
  
With revulsion, he dredged up his time spent interviewing Donato.  
  


Amon remembered the clubs he’d gone to, the women he’d taken home and the childhood trauma that had driven him. He remembered something always going wrong ( _she’s drunk, I can’t touch her. She’s married, oh Lord. She’s not his type. She smokes. He needs to wake up early. Not a single one had been_ ** _the one_** ).  
  


He remembered going through with it ( _a feeling of self-loathing, a blanket of shame, enveloping him when she moaned his name and he nearly responded with a different one, spurring himself on by thinking about the last time he’d been awake and hard, carrying Kaneki Ken around in a dilapidated warehouse_ ) and then quitting going to bars completely.  


He’d gone out a strike mission a few days later and run into Kaneki again. He recalled the flicker of **_something_** in his eyes when they’d met in the alley, before he knew who Amon was. The flicker of **_something else_** when he’d realized ( _pushed against a wall, he hadn’t pulled away; he’d leaned in_ ).   
  
  
He wondered at the confidence Kaneki had displayed, the raw power he’d manipulated, the resignation in his face as he escaped ( _it’s better to be the one hurt than the one who hurts others_ ). Amon’s mind wandered back to the CCG lunchroom, in which he’d heard a coworker reciting the story of the strange ghoul who had returned his quinque ( _he knew that was because of him_ ).  
  
  
His breath was coming quickly now and sweat was soaking through the back of his t-shirt.  
  


He slowed, cooling down before he sat heavily on a park bench. Throwing his head back and staring into the murky Tokyo sky, Amon’s face crumpled. Even if Kaneki wouldn’t forgive them, _**he was just like Nagachika**_. He couldn’t let him destroy himself.   
  
  
He didn’t intend to cage him, though. He’d just support Kaneki’s legs so he could walk his own path ( _that was why he’d bought all those books on trauma counselling once upon a time_ ). He’d be his greaves until he found his feet.  
  
  
Then Amon would return to his own crumbling path and rebuild it. Next, he’d face Kaneki again as equals ( _without the burden of Mado's death on his shoulders or the false justice he was currently wielding_ ).   
  
  
Suddenly, the stars in the sky seemed even more blurred than earlier ( _he couldn't look away from this anymore_ ). A few tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and he was finding it hard to breathe. There was no more pretending, even if panic, guilt, and desperation were crushing his chest.  
  


He was pretty sure this was what love felt like ( _the concern, admiration, the powerful feeling of "I want to see you", his racing heart, his trust, his faith, and the needy feeling growing inside him_ ).  


He had always heard that love was beautiful and fulfilling. He didn’t know it would make him cry.

 


	14. Gauntlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaneki's goals are slipping through his fingers while he slips through everyone else's.

Hinami Fuegachi stood outside of a locked door, scuffing the toes of her slippers against the carpet. She raised her hand to knock on the door and brushed her knuckles lightly against the wood. Sometimes she couldn’t get up the guts to make more than a whisper, but that was ok ( _Onii-chan will hear it_ ).  
  
  
Sure enough, there was shuffling in her brother’s room ( _and a scraping sound right inside of the door, like he was dragging something_ ) and the door swung open, revealing Kaneki in his usual black-and-white fare. He smiled at Hinami warmly ( _his lips were thin and his eyes were sad_ ) before kneeling down and opening his arms.  


Hinami ran into his embrace and held him tightly, relishing the moment ( _she liked that onii-chan didn’t need words_ ). Pressing her nose against his neck, Hinami inhaled Kaneki’s scent deeply while trying to re-ingrain it in her memory ( _mother’s clothes didn’t smell like anything anymore_ ). His soft white hair tickled her forehead ( _it had grown so long_ ) and she had to scrunch up her face to concentrate on her task ( _remember it, remember it, so I can find him anywhere like Itori-neesan_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki lightly rested his head against her shoulder, uncoiling all his muscles and turning into goop in her arms ( _she was used to Kaneki-puddles by now_ ).  
  
  
Minutes passed and Hinami was eventually satisfied ( _onii-chan smells like summer flowers: heady, warm, and rich. A full-scent, dolce like Tsukiyama always said_ ), so she turned her head and kissed Kaneki’s earrings ( _there were a lot of them right now. They’d probably be gone soon, though_ ) to let him know she was done ( _and because they were cute_ ). This got a pleased huff to leave Kaneki’s lips and he nuzzled into her shoulder, waving his silky smooth hair all over the place.  
  
  
She quietly glowed over her reward ( _Kaneki liked his earrings and liked that she liked them_ ), pleased with herself for cheering Kaneki up. However, her spirits soon fell as Kaneki released her and stood. **_He always let go too soon.  
  
_**

Kaneki didn’t cuddle Hinami much anymore ( _she was scared he wouldn’t at all next time she knocked_ ). He hardly left his room when he was in the apartment. He’d been doing “missions” on a daily basis for two weeks and hadn’t taken anyone but Banjou and Tsukiyama with him.  
  
  
Jiro, Ichimi, and Sante had been taking care of her while they were gone but Hinami was still lonely. Worse, she was finding it hard to trust that Kaneki would come back ( _mother and father didn’t come back_ ). She knew that he knew this ( _his eyes were all tired and guilty and onii-chan_ ** _didn’t need words_** ). She was angry that he knew ( _it was scary that he knew_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki was funny in the head sometimes ( _Hinami acted_ ** _funny_** _sometimes too, so she could tell_ ). When he wasn’t all there he did things Kaneki would never do, like leaving her behind and not staying home or taking her out when it rained. Banjou told her it was bad to let Kaneki “get in too deep” when he “wasn’t seeing the world as it was” and said that was why they couldn’t leave him alone.  
  
  
Hinami knew Kaneki got like this when he was scared and by himself ( _she was the same. She did it to survive_ ), so she didn’t understand why he was pushing them away…

  
After making sure Kaneki ate breakfast in the kitchen with her ( _though he’d gone back to only drinking coffee with sugar cubes instead of the thin meat cuts she ate, which made her feel bad about_ ** _enjoying_** _them so much_ ) Hinami couldn’t keep him anymore. He retreated back to his room with apologetic gestures, saying he was

  
“Almost done, Hina. So close.” 

And that he’d be home more often soon ( _he cracked his fingers when he said that, so he was going to_ ** _hurt bad people_** _again_ ).The door swung closed behind him with a note of finality that made her stomach twist. Secretly, she stole up to his door ( _listening to the scraping sound of wood on wood_ ) and rested her forehead again the grains. She’d just stay there for awhile ( _or hours_ ).  
  
  
After all, Banjou said it was bad to leave Kaneki alone. 

  
~~~~~~~~

 

All that Kaneki-kun had spoken to Tsukiyama about for **_two days_** was “the nurse”. Some woman who was connected to the man who had made Kaneki-kun so delightful ( _the mention of whom could drive him to paranoid obsession_ ). While that was all well and good ( _Tsukiyama appreciated Kanou’s work_ ), Tsukiyama was certain that this conversational topic was appallingly dead.  
  
  
He was certainly not jealous of the attention Kaneki-kun was aiming at someone else ( _that would be uncouth_ ). He was simply bored of hearing the same thing everyday ( _though he never tired of Kaneki-kun’s subtle threats when he got out of line_ ).  


Though he had been sick of hearing about it, Tsukiyama thought his current situation was worse ( ** _…sentir le sapin_** ). Kaneki’s eyes were rolling wildly as he twitched on the ground, many of his broken bones resetting themselves underneath his skin ( _the scent of delicious meat floating on the wind and making his stomach growl_ ). Finding the nurse had been easy enough, but keeping her had been an impossibility.  
  
  
Moustache had **fare polpette di Kaneki-kun** , so to speak, and Naki had rushed away with the woman. Banjou and Tsukiyama had been otherwise occupied ( _there were many pathetic flies to keep away from Kaneki-kun, all of whom were left lying in bloody heaps behind him. Shachi hadn’t seen it fit to collect them when he left, too busy commenting on Kaneki’s fighting form and encouraging him to continue “practicing”_ ) and were unable to stop him.  
  
  
Nothing had gone as planned and now his meal was ruined ( ** _calmato_** _, Tsukiyama could fix him, couldn't he?_ ). 

  
Upon hearing a gurgling sound leave Kaneki-kun’s lips accompanying a few blood bubbles, Tsukiyama stepped over Banjou’s unconscious body and headed towards him.A quick once over alerted him to the problem: a broken rib had punctured the dolce boy’s lung and was stuck there.  
  
  
Tsukiyama felt a shiver of delight run down his spine. The problem was easy to fix and required his help. He rolled up his sleeves and let his koukaku curl are his arm, fining outwards into a sharp point. He sliced open Kaneki-kun’s black jacket ( _good thing he wasn’t wearing his battle suit today, Tsukiyama's tailor had a difficult time fixing it_ ) and lifted it over the bone ( _perhaps a little bit carelessly, but Kaneki-kun’s moans were…_ ) to expose the wound.

   
Tsukiyama wrapped his slender fingers around the shock-white rib ( ** _hermoso_** ) and wrenched it out of Kaneki-kun’s chest with a snap. Blood flowed freely from the wound for a matter of seconds before it closed ( _so he'd been eating recently. How wonderful_ ). Tsukiyama’s hands were covered in it and he could feel his pupils dilating.

  
Kaneki-kun wouldn’t be unconscious for much longer. He could just eat now ( _his meal wasn't tainted anymore; it was all healed up_ ) instead of waiting for the boy to ripen perfectly. He was **radiante** already. While considering his options, Tsukiyama licked the scarlet blood from his hands ( _slowly, to savour it. For that reason and that reason alone_ ) and Kaneki-kun began to stir.

  
“Ah, **_heartbreak_**. I suppose my stomach will have to wait.” 

  
Tsukiyama cried out. He didn’t mind helping Kaneki-kun to his feet or wrapping his arm around his waist to support him. Kaneki-kun quickly shoved him off, though with that thunderous expression and all that red in his hair he looked like an avenging angel and Tsukiyama could not bear to lay his hands upon his skin again ( _sacrament_ ).  
  
  
No, the Kaneki-kun that stood before him now could not be **_brutto come la fame_**. He far was too breathtaking ( _hunger could not compare to ephemeral beauty_ ). 

 

~~~~~~~~

  

Not eating Kaneki-kun soon turned into the best decision of Tsukiyama’s life. Kaneki-kun **_came to him_** shortly after they returned to the apartment. He wanted to spend time together ( _to train and to fight with someone skilled, bloodthirsty, and who wouldn’t mind if he died_ ). Tsukiyama was permitted to lounge in the scent of his sweat and blood after a long fight ( _he was too tired to leave anyway_ ). He could even touch him now ( _to land blows or to get his wounds dressed_ ).  
  
  
Surely Tsukiyama could now call himself Kaneki-kun’s **bras droit**?  
 

Tsukiyama whistled a happy tune to himself as he approached Kaneki-kun’s red maple door, noting the distinct lack of the little lady today. His tune grew cheerier as he realized that he was the only one permitted to see Kaneki-kun as he was now ( _with his self-preservation instincts on full alert_ ).  
  
  
He rapped on the door and did not wait for the furniture to be dragged away, simply forcing the door open. He was mildly disappointed that Kaneki-kun was in the room and facing him ( _he’d been planning to take a shirt or two for awhile…_ ), but his **cachondo** mood was not to be dampened.

  
“Here, Kaneki-kun, I brought you some novels to read in your free time.” 

  
He said, sweeping into the room with a flourish. Kaneki scowled at him from the bed he was laying on, the dark bags beneath his eyes enhancing his glower. Tsukiyama was stricken by the urge to comfort him ( _he was his best friend after all_ ) and the idea that now was the right time.

  
“Don’t worry about the ants under your feet Kaneki-kun. You’ll keep growing stronger from here on out. As one of the strong, you’ve got that right. ** _Crush them_**. I’m not going to protect you as **_your shield_** or **_your armour_**.” 

  
He recited, thinking back on the speech he had prepared. Tsukiyama smirked, proud of the line that was coming next ( _it was from a beautiful piece of literature...Kaneki-kun would appreciate it_ ).

  
“I’ll be the **_dagger under your pillow_** , Kaneki-kun. I’ll always be by your side.” 

  
Unexpectedly, Tsukiyama’s speech resulted in Kaneki-kun gripping him by the shirt and hurling him from the room. He slammed into a wall with considerably less force than usual ( _training was brutal - Kaneki-kun may not have progressed much as a kakuja but his dexterity was_ ** _très bein_** ) and heaved a grateful sigh as he righted himself.  
  
  
Plaster floated down from the ceiling and settled in Tsukiyama’s hair as Kaneki-kun stormed past him and out of the apartment. Immediately after, Hinami poked her head out of her room and glanced around in confusion ( ** _be cool_** _, Tsukiyama_ ).   


“Flower-man, what happened? Did onii-chan do this?”

  
She questioned, her eyes skimming over his body and the wall for wounds. Though it hurt ( _less force only meant his bones didn’t break_ ), Tsukiyama forced himself to laugh. 

  
“ **Calmato** , little lady. Kaneki-kun was just excited. I told him Takatsuki Sen wrote a new book and he accidentally threw me off to go buy it.” 

  
Hinami made a doubtful face but dropped the subject, offering instead to help Tsukiyama to his feet. He declined and dusted the white flakes from his coif as she wandered away ( _throwing him concerned glances over her shoulder. She was such a_ ** _dolce_** _girl_ ).  
  
  
When he was finally alone again, Tsukiyama heaved himself to his feet and entered Kaneki-kun’s room. He figured that he might as well try to keep his good mood going ( _he had some shirts to borrow_ ). 

 

-POV Change-

 

A harsh wind was chilling Kaneki to the bone as he jogged through the city. The bite of it was helping him clear his head, however he still regretted not bringing a jacket of any kind. It was late winter and he knew he looked suspicious running down the street in a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. If anyone looked his way for long enough, they would probably remember his face ( _the eyepatch made him stand out, but he couldn’t bear to remove it_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki nearly laughed as a thought came to him. What did it matter if his impromptu run was self-destructive? Everything he had done recently had been tearing him apart, bit by bit.  
 

Tsukiyama’s words had pierced the fog that had been clouding his thoughts ( _he imagined it as violet smoke thick with the stench of deadly nightshade_ ). Kaneki did not need a dagger. He wasn’t Macbeth, a paranoid protagonist out to slaughter his enemies and begin a cycle of revenge that would leave only bones behind.  
  
  
At least he hoped he wasn’t.  
  
  
Kaneki wasn’t sure anymore. He was losing things. Losing control of the situation ( _of reality, of the whispers at his doorway when he tries to sleep, and all of them grew louder the closer he got to the goal_ ). He couldn’t LET Kanou go.  
  
  
He would let the nurse go because that was just one battle. Kaneki needed to win the war, though. Macbeth lost his fight and his country. **_He had also killed his best friend_** _(there are similarities, Kaneki, so so many)_.  
  
  
Kaneki shivered violently as an arctic blast of wind bypassed his zipper and sunk into his chest. The icy sensation reminded him of ghost stories and he nearly smiled at the surrealism ( _a chill seizing his heart as if Banquo’s ghost had it in hand, calling for justice_ ).   


He wasn’t Macbeth, of course. Hide, unlike Banquo, was alive and well. Still, the cold sensation from earlier hadn’t left him yet and Kaneki was scared. He knew it was irrational, but his reality had been less than rational as of late.   
  
  
He fumbled to open the phone in his pocket ( _he carried it everywhere_ ) and turn it on ( _he charged and checked it nightly_ ), however he soon discovered his hands were too numb. Kaneki slowed his pace and observed his surroundings carefully, looking for a place that was still open.  
  
  
His gaze alighted upon a bookstore that looked invitingly warm and accessible even though it was almost midnight. Kaneki hunched his shoulders to his ears, conserving what little warmth he had left as he approached the place.  
  
  
Peering up at the old unilluminated wooden sign, he quirked a smile. He liked the name ( _Second Meeting; what a classic_ ).  
 

The interior of the shop was entirely wooden and incredibly warm, which Kaneki found odd but homey. Inhaling the scent of old books made him relax and the absence of the shopkeep eased his mind further. He stole away to the back of store and huddled up in an overstuffed leather chair, sitting on his hands to warm them.   
  
  
When he finally regained sensation, he powered his old cellphone on and opened his text folder. Hundreds on unread messages greeted him, all from the only person who used this number anymore.  
  
  
For the first time in months, Kaneki considered opening Hide’s messages. He checked on them periodically, so he knew their introductory content ( _he was always concerned that Hide would be in danger and try to contact him. Luckily, he never was_ ).   
  
  
This time however, Kaneki wanted to read them in full and bask in Hide’s words ( _his worry, his warmth, his friendship that he didn’t deserve_ ). He wasn’t sure who he was anymore, he wasn’t sure if Hide was still ok, and he was sure Hide’s messages contained the answers to both of those questions.  
  
  
Like reading his father’s books connected him with a man he’d never met, maybe…maybe he could reach out to Kaneki Ken the college student ( _why do you want to? He was weak and naive. He got you into this mess_ ) who wasn’t psychologically damaged.

  
“Kaneki, you idiot! Why am I all alone in this class again, huh? I only took ancient lit because you wanted somebody to discuss it with! RUDE!”

  
“Hey man, I’m taking notes for you still. It’d take a load off my shoulders if you showed up for once.” 

  
“Woah, my house is overflowing with papers!!!! They’re your papers. All the papers you’ve missed.”  
 

“Coffee today?”  


“I’ve been keeping your apartment tidy. I uh…you haven’t been home for a long time, clearly.”

  
“You know that you’ve been reported missing, right?”   


“Sometimes I wish you would’ve just talked to me about whatever made you disappear”

  
“Actually I wish it all the time” 

  
“Come home. I’m lonely.” 

  
“Hey Kaneki, I wound up moving. You can look up my new address in basically any directory. I payed for it myself!” 

  
“Kaneki, I stopped going to university. That stuff is expensive, you know!?”

  
“I quit because it didn’t feel the same.”

  
“Hey man, I forgot to tell you about my job. I’m an investigator now with a super secret company! It’s really exciting and all, but really I just want to find you.” 

  
“Are you ok? I had a nightmare tonight. In it you were dead. I’ve never been so sick in my life…” 

  
“I found a bookstore you would really like man! It’s one of those classic wooden deals and oh geez, the front desk is exactly the nerdy kind of thing you would fall in love with. I marked off a couple of books with blue tape just for you (just like we used to when we were kids, remember? Bright blue tape on all the good stuff for when you’d hide away in those places overnight…” 

  
“I made a new friend today. I don’t really trust him yet. He said he’d help me find you.”

  
“You know each other.”

  
“Maybe someday all three of us could hang out.”  


Kaneki’s heart felt like it was beating out of his chest and tears were streaming down his face ( ** _oh, poor darling. I liked you because you were so soOoOOoft, riiiiiight?_** ). He’d seen blue tape in nearly every bookstore he’d been in ( ** _those places you went to to FIND YOURSELF hmm?_** ).  
  
  
He’d seen it up several wards away from the 20th, even. He hadn’t recognized it. He hadn’t remembered.  
  
  
And somebody he knew? An investigator?  
  
  
Everything he’d been blind to was like a slap in the face ( _Amon shoving him against the wall, concealing him, trying to protect him, brushing his hands over his skin like he was something delicate and loveable and human and_ ** _worth saving_** _. Flickers of cerulean and aqua in the books Tsukiyama had purchased because he knew Kaneki would like them. Hide’s words: “I wish you’d told me” and “it wasn’t the same without you” and “I’m lonely”_ ).

  
Rize was laughing somewhere ( _behind the purple smoke underneath his door_ ) and his finger was broken ( _as if someone else had done it but he knew he was the one_ ) and he’d mistaken the snap of bone for the flipping of a dry piece of paper ( _like he was reading Hide’s journal instead of his texts_ ). His phone vibrated in his hand as it continued to load unread messages and he couldn't look away.  
  
  
“If I found you, what would you say?”

  
“Would you reject me again, Kaneki? I remember how hard it was to get you to open up when we first met. After your mom died you thought you should keep anything sad to yourself, didn’t you? Even though when you were sad it made me sad too, when you told me about it I was always so happy. When we ran away together for the first time and picked a university together…having you lean on me was…I felt really important, Kaneki. The times you trusted me are what made you my best friend.” 

  
“I need you, even if you don’t need me as a friend anymore. I’ve been thinking about it. You’re just like home. You are the only person I feel right with even if I can’t explain it. It has to be you. All these books in my apartment, half my clothes, some of my favourite songs, I share them all with you. I’m half the person I could be. You’re my home, Kaneki.”

  
"Please Kaneki...please. Just be alright. Be alive. Be alive for long enough that I can kick your ass for everything you've put me through. Alive for long enough that I can tell you how much you mean to me in enough detail we'll both be embarrassed."

  
“Even if that bastard has given up on finding you, I haven’t. I never will.” 

  
“I swear to God, Kaneki. If you die before I find you, I’ll kill you myself.”  


“Those threats never worked on you, did they? That’s why you got your ass kicked way too many times in high school. I know you better than those bullies, though. ** _Ken, if you die, I die._** I hope you read this you bloody martyr. If you go down I’m going down with you!!!!!” 

  
After that Hide continued his regular messages about his day and idle memories of the past, but none of them settled in Kaneki’s mind. That message ( _“I’m going down with you”_ ) had stopped his racing heart in its tracks.  
  
  
It was a threat Hide had only used once before ( _“I can’t live there anymore!” “I can’t live without you.”_ ) and he had sworn to never let it leave his lips again (“ _it was manipulative, I’m sorry. I won’t do what your aunt does…Kaneki, it’s ok. It’s ok. I won’t say it. Ever._ ”).  
  
  
Was this how Hide really felt (“ _you’re my home… I’m half a person without you… I’ll die_ ”)? What would everyone do if he really died next time, if Shachi had’ve decided to wipe him out completely ( _he remembered Tsukiyama’s hands digging into his chest wound and he remembered surviving, he remembered Banjou’s solemn promises, Amon crowding him against the wall, Hinami’s fear of the rain, Yomo and Uta’s housewife gossip that was really just to comfort him, and Touka’s haunted angry eyes_ )?

  
He felt like ripping out of his own skin and filling the abyss inside of himself with **_purple smoke_** and **_chess boards_** and And aND AND the dry razor slices of old pages in his **_fathers_** **_study_**. He wanted Hide to comfort him and he wanted to talk to him, to tell him everything.  
  
  
But his stomach **_growled_** and he was a **_monster_** ( _no, no, no, nobody was a monster, remember the reason you started to_ ** _eat BUT HAVEn't you ALMOST STOPped?_** ) and he had to keep him safe. He couldn’t just keep Hide safe, though.   
  
  
The things he had been offered to fill the void would not keep anyone safe from him.  
  
  
Kaneki angrily swiped away his tears and turned off his cellphone, standing from the chair and heading for the door ( _ignoring the blue tape every step of the way_ ). If everyone else would be sad if he died, then they were the same as Hide. Kaneki needed to protect them too. And he needed to not die.  ** _He needed to be stronger_**.  
  
  
The night air **_stained_** his skin mottled ** _crimson_** and **_violet_**.   
  
...  
  
  
**_He didn’t like it_** _(a portent of things to come)_ _._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sentir le sapin: "Feel of the pine" is a French expression referencing the manufacture of coffins, meaning that someone or something will die soon  
> Fare polpette di: "To make meatballs of" is an Italian idiom similar to the English "to beat someone to a pulp"  
> Calmato: "Calm" in Italian  
> Hermoso: "Beautiful" in Spanish  
> Radiante: "Radiant" in Spanish  
> Brutto come la fame: "Ugly as hunger" is an Italian phrase similar to the English "ugly as sin"  
> Bras Droit: "Right hand man" in French  
> Cachondo: "Lighthearted, happy" in Italian, though it is often translated as horny  
> Très Bein: "Very good" in French  
> Dolce: "Sweet" in Italian


	15. Helm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misery loves company and Uta is offering his.

None of the stitches looked right. The leather was too glossy and the black thread stood out in sharp contrast. It made Uta want to rip the mask in his hands to pieces, so he did exactly that. The easy sliding of shredded leather underneath his fingernails only fueled his frustration ( _it wasn’t satisfying, this dead flesh_ ).   
  
  
Renji wouldn’t come around ( _he was too busy brooding_ ), nobody was spreading rumours ( _unless it was old and about j **ust one person**_ ), and his latest and greatest entertainment had gone up in smoke.  
  
  
Kaneki Ken had secluded himself from the world, drawing everyone’s eyes and giving nothing away. He wouldn’t tell Uta a single thing during training ( _Renji would nag nag nag_ ) and had bluntly refused to come to Hy Sy.   
  
  
Uta seethed at the metal rings on the ground that had burst from the mask ( _Kaneki’s piercings would have all come out by now. That little bastard was avoiding him_ ) and kicked out at the ground, launching his chair into a dizzying spin. He wanted to do something fun ( ** _crunch_** _went the sound of excitement, but he couldn’t do that now_ ). He needed to move his hands ( _to break_ ) and find an artistic outlet ( _other than that pile of trashy leather on the ground_ ).  
  
  
He needed to focus ( _distraction was his penchant and his greatest failing_ ).  
  


Uta’s swirling slowed to a stop as his gaze targeted some scraps dangling from a drawer. Agitation sunk into his bones as he analyzed the torn red grin ( _did Kaneki’s mask still suit him? His pride as a mask-maker was on the line…_ ), the only scrap of its kind.   
  
  
Kaneki’s mask had only been ripped before once ( _the zipper had jammed_ ) and the shredding this one had gone through made him nervous ( _all ghouls hoarded what little they had, especially masks_ ).  
  
  
Uta strode over to the drawer and ripped the smiling mouth free. It lay in his palms benignly, reminding him strongly of a clown’s perpetual grin ( _they smiled in both tragedies and comedies, oh that was why he liked it so_ ). Such an innocent thing, monstrous in the right light, painted open but zipped shut…he’d really appreciated the duality of this piece.   
  
  
The last time he’d seen Kaneki…oh the beast had been there all right. Uta chuckled to himself. Kaneki had become a corpse-picker; a scavenging bird. He could just imagine the mask he’d have ( _Renji the raven could probably see it too_ ).  
  


The laughter left his lungs far too quickly for his liking, however. He couldn’t actually picture the kakuja mask ( _would it be coloured? Red? Purple? Black? White? Would it conceal his eyes or his mouth? Would it even cover a human face?_ ). Kaneki didn’t look like a scavenger. He didn’t look like a bird of prey either.   
  
  
His inner demons were on full display, leashed to the alpha-beast the lay within.  
  
  
The leather twisted around Uta’s slender hands and bulged under the strain. The mask was wrong, it was all wrong, it didn’t look right, the stage wasn’t right, ** _the actors were in place but where was the script?_** Symbolism was necessary to convey the words the actor couldn’t say to the audience and all participating parties.   
  
  
He needed that mask to be perfect.

~~~~~~~~

  
After days of waiting, Kaneki finally showed his face at the studio. Uta had kept it empty the entire time to avoid confrontation ( _ghouls are not territorial by nature, but Kaneki had learned the behaviour_ ). Kaneki had torn another mask ( _there was blood in the teeth of the zipper. Uta presumed it had jammed and Kaneki had just…torn it off_ ).   
  
  
Softly, Uta mentioned Kaneki’s absence from their training sessions, how he was not inclined to simply repair his mask for free.  
  
  
There was a flickering in Kaneki’s eyes and something skittered away from the light ( _it was actually a little frightening, a little thrilling_ ) before Kaneki responded to him. His tone was soft, but the emphasis he placed on certain words gave them power ( _like a whip. How pleasant_ ). He told Uta he would continue the lessons if nobody tried to give him any life advice.   
  
  
Something inside of Uta crowed at the unspoken challenge there, the defiance of all but the road paved with good intentions ( _he could see that the inferno suited the beast_ ). Ignoring his savage pleasure, Uta let his head tilt amicably and widened his eyes in mock-innocence.   
  


“Well, I suppose Renji won’t be joining us then.” 

  
He let fall guilelessly from his lips. Static ran along his nerves when he observed Kaneki’s beast ( _flicker, skitter, something indistinct lurking behind the grey_ ) pick up on his intentions. This might be the first time he had found himself under Kaneki’s full scrutiny. It was exciting, but not enough.   
  
  
Uta made a gamble and let **_something_** slip into his skin for a moment ( _he felt his upper lip curling like a dog’s and displayed the blackness of his nails_ ). A nearly-maternal look befell Kaneki, his anxieties seemingly soothed ( _how perverse_ ).   
  
  
Pushing his luck the final stretch, Uta made a final request: 

  
“How about we form a pack, Kaneki-kun? The artistically-minded need to stick together. While you paint the town in your colours, I’ll make you a mask in them.” 

   
Confusion clouded Kaneki’s demeanour ( _it's_   _not_   _Rize then, not like before. She would've laughed... how peculiar_ ), prompting Uta to explain further.

  
“I can’t do any work with an unfinished piece in front of me. Your mask doesn’t suit you, Kaneki-kun; I made it for someone else. I like to get to know my customers, as you know. So, since you seem to be quite the nomad, I’ll follow you until I have enough material for something new.”   
  


Understanding the request and reading between the lines, Kaneki commanded him with:

  
“This needs to be done. I can’t back down, even if I want to. This is my path…at least until I have the strength to face another one.”  
  


( _so if he went and stopped him, he'd die, and if Uta followed him onto the battlefield, he was expected to fight, hmm?_ )

  
“Let’s begin, shall we?”

 

~~~~~~~~

  
Hunting for information he already knew was a tedious task, however Uta never bored of keeping secrets. Kaneki’s frustration with every dead end and his disturbing tendencies ( _a caretaker’s words and an undertaker’s visage_ ) were a fount of amusement for him.   
  
  
Maybe it would get old soon - it had with other people. Far sooner than this in fact.   
  
  
Uta supposed that he could just be upset about all the information Kaneki was withholding ( _the location of his comrades, the investigator who knew him too well, the phone in his pocket that was always off, what form the shadows in soul would take if they were corporeal_ ) and so was engaging in an “ ** _eye for an eye_** ” punishment, so to speak.  
  
  
It was late at night and Kaneki had taken him out to interrogate Kanou’s goons again. At least this time the scenery was conducive to interrogation ( _a lovely high-rise he could dangle people off of_ ) instead of another open space ( _so many interruptions_ ).  
  
  
Idly, Uta drove his tattooed fingers through some poor soul’s breastbone before tossing them into the air like a sack. The ghoul’s body turned in a graceless arc before skidding across the pavement to its destination at Kaneki’s feet.  
  


Privately, Uta was making a game of delivering half-dead things to him. Kaneki’s beast was responsive to many animal things, but seemed unerringly disgusted by this display ( _he was a_ ** _cross-breed_** _through and through_ ). He kept his face blank as Kaneki glowered at him past his latest half-mask, jokingly designed after the lower half of a cat’s face. Judging by the annoyance lurking there, Uta supposed Kaneki finally understood the meaning of the mask.  
  
  
Oh, Uta had said he was simply building around Kaneki’s most recent jewelry ( _he’d been practicing bridge piercings and Kaneki didn’t mind being a test dummy_ ) though, as always, that was only a half-truth. He knew he would get away with it too; Kaneki’s tolerance was boundless so long as he didn’t stray into the territory of betrayal. He’d also continue letting Uta design masks around his progressively unconventional modifications.  
  


Both of them knew that Kaneki found the pain relaxing ( _Uta had a suspicion that he also enjoyed the physical contact with his own kind the piercing session provided_ ). He approached Kaneki slowly ( _don’t startle him_ ) as he followed this train of thought.   
  
  
Uta had been trying unfamiliar techniques on Kaneki with a high degree of success. Heavy, large, or noticeable jewelry appeared to put Kaneki into a good mood, even if he wouldn’t admire them in a mirror as Uta did ( _his work had been spectacular lately_ ).  
  
  
Curiousity had gotten the better of him and Uta had repeated some techniques on himself. Solid ghoul bone studs currently pressed downwards  between his knuckles with each blow, keeping him centred throughout his fight. While he found this unpleasant ( _a leash_ ), Uta could understand Kaneki’s fascination.   
  
  
Reaching Kaneki, Uta kicked away the man he’d totalled and brushed his fingertips across the metal bar through Kaneki’s nose cartilage. Kaneki watched him with an unwavering gaze ( _though he twitched at the crunch Uta’s kick had made_ ) that was always far less crazed than he anticipated (s _uch a strong mind_ ).

  
“Kaneki-kun, it looks like this bar is on its way out.”

  
Uta drawled, aiming an appraising look at the piercing. Kaneki wrinkled his nose in response, wiggling the bar up and down. It lifted a few more millimetres from his skin and Kaneki sighed in dejection.   
  
  
Without warning, Uta reached forward and tore it from its place. Kaneki jerked in surprise, lifting a hand to his bleeding nose and levelling a lethal look at Uta’s reddened fingertips. 

  
“Every. Single. Time.” 

  
He muttered before the anger faded from his face. Kaneki pushed his half mask back into his hair, pulling it off of his face and smearing crimson tracks along his forehead. Uta laughed softly, wiping it away while Kaneki grumbled in exasperation. His reactions were always so entertaining _(this one is much fun!_ ).   
  
  
**_Ah, Uta wanted to mark him for good._**

  
“You know, I can think of something more suitable than all this jewelry, Kaneki-kun.” 

  
He mentioned while idly twirling the bar. Kaneki turned away from Uta and began checking on the man he’d kicked aside, but his head was tilted towards him. 

  
“What do you think of a marking that isn’t a wound? I doubt your almighty kakuhou will try to push **_my_** ink out of your skin.” 

  
Kaneki’s arms stilled ( _was he setting the ghoul’s ribs?_ ) and he seemed lost in thought. A few beats later he returned to his work without answering Uta, who frowned in irritation.   
  
  
A design was already taking form in his mind, something that no man would grasp the scope of ( _a construction of those born in blood and raised in death_ ). He could make a statement piece to match the mask he couldn’t quite finish.  
  
  
Uta worried the rings on his lower lip and time continued to pass without Kaneki’s acknowledgement of his idea. Eventually Uta drifted to his side ( _he was setting the bone. Quite well, too_ ) and drummed his fingers against his thigh.   
  
  
Finishing what he had set out to do, Kaneki stood and the beast was back in his eyes ( ** _he’d given something away_** _in his speech, hadn’t he? He'd called it out_ ). Uta’s hair stood on end when Kaneki chuckled darkly and turned his back on him, strolling back in the direction of their base.

  
“Oh, I’ll let you tattoo me Uta-san. **_You and_ _no one else_**. On the condition that you survive, that is.”   
  


He asserted, tossing the cat half-mask off the edge of the building. His head tilted just so and a blinking security light illuminated his expression in red.   
  
  
Uta finally saw the manic ferocity he’d been waiting for. 

  
“I have what I need. We’re off to see Dr. Kanou.”

 


	16. Apex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The higher you climb, the harder you fall. 
> 
> This chapter is a doozy. For clarity's sake: Rize's voice and thoughts are bolded/strikethrough, Yamori's is underlined/bold, and the third voice is written in plain italics. AO3 won't let me use coloured text so I hope this is clear enough to read.

A rag tag band of 7 ghouls broke into Kanou’s old residence by Kaneki’s side. Banjou and his crew had been delighted to accept his invitation after he’d been AWOL for over a month. Tsukiyama had been stalking him from the shadows anyway, so he wasn’t troubled by his “absence” at all. His enthusiasm actually seemed genuine to Kaneki for once. Uta’s company was a given, especially after Kaneki had agreed to let him tattoo him.   
  
  
Kaneki glanced at Uta, who looked alert for the first time ever, from his peripheral vision. He was glad he’d made the right decision after being presented with such a twisted offer ( _he had suspected Uta considered him to be his toy before that moment, but having it verified was unsettling)._ Kaneki was completely positive that Uta would now do anything to prevent his death ( _outside of dying himself_ ).  


This extra protection had allowed Kaneki to invite Hinami to be by his side as well. Though Kaneki was extremely worried that something may happen to her, he knew he couldn’t abandon her at the apartment while he went off on a high-risk mission. Everyone had instructions to preserve her safety over his in the event of an emergency. He was confident they **_would_** escape if someone was left guarding his back.  
  
  
Still, Kaneki’s paranoia whispered frantically in his ear ( _go alone go alone go alone, you’re going to get them all killed_ ) when their little group reached a wall of flesh that could’ve been lifted straight out of his nightmares. Shaking it off, Kaneki pressed on.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Every mouthful of malevolent, mutated, failed half-ghouls increased the clamour inside of Kaneki’s skull. It was an auditorium with sloped ivory ceilings, funnelling the cacophony directly into his ears, shaking the fluid and drowning him in sound.   
  
  
The **_voices_** ( _were there so many before?_ ) sounded like something crawling, chewing, curling in and out, in and out. But he ~~**_needed to eat_** , **_riiiiiiiiight_**~~? Ah, his body was practically falling apart.  
  
  
It was alright though, he could just take a slice of someone else and it’d all come together. Only the mutants though ( _pitiable things, death would be_ ~~ ** _KINDER oh Kaneki such a nice boy are you? Are you still thinking those silly thoughts? Cause it looks like you’re hurting others right now_**~~ ).  
  
  
Kaneki’s eyes rolled wildly as another mouthful of fetid meat slid down his throat and settled in his stomach. It felt like something was fluttering over his face ( _hands? Was he imagining tender touches on his cheeks? White dresses in the sunlight?)_ and he poked out his tongue to touch it. The same disgusting taste that the mutants had ( _no, this was sweeter_ ) filled his mouth and the object rasped over his tongue like sandpaper.  


His eyes refocused as he realized he was tasting his kakuja armour ( **_ooooooh it’s grown…you can step on so many ants now, can’t you? You’ve got that rightright_ ** ~~**_riiiiiight_**~~ ). The voices that had whispered to him before, the ones he’d slowly managed to overcome and hone ( _only soft murmurs of hunger around softly structured men and faint calls of joy when he severed flesh from bone_ ) had gotten so much louder.  
  
  
The layers of his kakuja cocoon ( ~~ ** _you’re going through a Metamorphosis, just like Gregor_**~~ ), no, his armour ( _wasn’t something…someone else…that?_ ), were shivering like they were bound to collapse. He needed to keep in control. He needed to wipe out the last of his opponents without **_EATing_**. He’d been training for this ( _to not rely on_ ** _her rinkaku_** _alone_ ). He had back up for this.  
  
  
Though they’d been separated ( _were they ok?_ **_Doesn’t matter. _ ** ~~**_Doesn’t matter._**~~ _Uta is here. Somewhere. Watching_ ) he knew his friends were attempting to catch up to him.  
  
  
He could hold out.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

The CCG was there. Some fractured part of him could remember who they were ( ~~ ** _who_**~~ **_are_** _you? SHUT UP!)_. They wouldn’t know who he was underneath all his defences ( ** _ ~~doesn’t matter. You’re a ghoul.~~ T_** ** _hey want to kill you_ ** **_._** _No! He…_ ).  
  
  
He had to…do something?  
  
  
Oh God, could he take off this heavy shell, unload his burdens once and for all ( ~~ ** _let yourself drown_**~~ )? He didn’t want to be changed, ( _not againagainagain I’m already enough_ ).  
  
  
Amon ( ** _wants to kill you too_** )! He was there ( _I can smell him_ ) and Kaneki's racing mind focused on him, sharp and clear for a moment. He was a Dove, so Kaneki had to get him away ( ** _we aren’t finished yet_** ).  
  
  
No, not away, he didn't want to be alone here ( ~~ ** _you're not alone_**~~ , **_we're inside of you_** ).  
  
  
Amon…could he…help? He always did before and he was always gentle and the twiiiiiiisting inside of him was…

  
_Find him first. Take him. Keep him._

  
His tortured body turned bit by bit, his shattered bones coming together and he faced the crowd behind him. The instinctual bit of him ( _the leash he tied the others to_ ) zeroed in on his friend. Kaneki relinquished control to ** _it_** , trusting **_it_** to take care of the investigator ( _as he was now...he couldn't go any further, not with THE ** ~~SCREAMING~~** I **N** ~~**HIS**~~ **HEAD**_ ).  
  
  
It rumbled in contentment and stood tall, facing Amon’s squad-mates. They thought it was dangerous ( _they were right_ ) but it wouldn’t harm them. It would escape soon and carry out its duty. Before running to its fellows though, it had to take care of the important person.  
  
  
The beast ( _as Uta knew it_ ) formed bonds in battle, attuned as it was to the atmosphere and situation. Emotions, even shredded and buried in guilt and self-hatred, were no secret to something that did not NEED secrets. When it had spotted the investigator in its completion, it knew that Amon valued it. It felt itself inclined to return the favour.  
  
  
These thoughts all flickered through its brain quick as a gunshot. Mind made up, it began to move fluidly towards the flock of Doves. However, its motions were halted quickly as **_something else_** stepped onto the stage ( _it must protect its territory_ ). 

 

-POV Change-  


 

The scene before Amon looked like it was straight out of a horror movie. Bloodied mutated humans ( _half-ghouls?_ ) lay in chunks all over the laboratory floor. Deep gouges marred every surface and all the containment chambers had been reduced to piles of shattered glass ( _Kanou had already clearly left_ ). Terrifyingly, Kaneki also stood in the middle of the mess, wearing a tight black suit writhing with a red glow.  
  
  
His rinkaku was extended to a span of 20 feet behind him in twin tails and, as Amon watched, a mask unfurled over his head. Kaneki turned to them then, a grinding sound ( _similar to dropping glass in the garbage disposal_ ) accompanying his movements. The single eye of Kaneki’s mask bored into Amon's and he took a half-step forwards, wanting to calm the little half-ghoul ( _what on Earth had happened to him?_ ).  


Immediately, Kaneki began to move towards him in a disquieting prowling motion ( _was that really even him? Did he have time to doubt?_ ). A heavy thud ( _behind him and to the left_ ) resounded through the room, but Amon kept his focus on Kaneki’s kakuja-form ( _the mask had given everything away_ ). He saw Kaneki twirl in a liquid movement ( ** _boneless_** ) to face the source of the noise. His single eye glowed an eerie maroon and Amon found he could distinguish no emotions in its gaze.  
  
  
He blinked and when his vision refocused a titan of a ghoul was hurling Shinohara away from his side with impossible force. Stunned, Amon blinked again, not quite comprehending what was happening. There was a split second during which his sight was filled with the moustached man’s face ( _ah, it was the SSS-ranked ghoul, Shachi…he wasn’t supposed to be here_ ) before it was obscured by a pulsating crimson wall.  


His stomach gave a nauseating jolt as he was lifted from the ground and pulled sharply to the left, all to the soundtrack of rending flesh. Amon struggled against the kagune ( _that was the only thing it could be_ ) that was keeping him in place. He was conscious of the situation now and desperate to help his comrades. Luckily the kagune’s grip on him was light and he managed to tear away several chunks.  
  
  
Finally able to see, he stared at the fight unfurling before him. Kaneki was tearing towards Shachi in a bizarre and ferocious style, flinging away the Doves that tried to attack him from the sidelines. Ice cold fear sunk deep into Amon’s heart when he saw Shinohara preparing to activate Arata behind a make-shift wall of mutant meat across the lab ( _they thought Kaneki was trying to eat him, Kaneki was too far gone to stop them, and was he landing blows by_ ** _tearing off his own limbs!?_** ).  
  
  
Everything had officially gone to shit. If there was ever a time for Nagachika’s plan, it was now. 

 

-POV Change-

 

“I see you’ve gained strength.” 

  
Shachi praised it, behaving as if it wasn’t raining down all of its wrath on him. He was eyeing it critically, breaking a limb here ( _means nothing_ ) and disabling one there ( _it just removed those_ ). The beast knew it was being observed and that it should increase the finesse of its blows, however Shachi had headed straight for Amon, preventing it from maintaining a cool demeanour.  
  
  
Oh, it knew that it had taken something from Shachi ( _it smelled like him in a way. It knew that it contained a piece of his kin_ ) and understood the need for recompense. That did not matter though. Reason and justice beyond its own did not exist.

  
“Your lack of control is deplorable. Did I not speak to you about this earlier?” 

  
Shachi was saying, though it was too distracted with Amon’s struggles and the swathe of investigators shooting at it to care ( _it wasn't even the one that had fought him before_ ). If the important person remained so insistent on seeing what was going on, it would get scared. Or shot in the face. He did not seem to understand it well and was going to get them both killed. 

  
“I can’t die, though.” 

  
The beast mused in its smooth voice, reinstating its purpose. Shachi was looking at it oddly now, clearly misinterpreting the statement ( _it did not think it was immortal, the beast did not know arrogance_ ). In order to fulfill its self-made promise, it was going to have to leave this battle alive. It couldn’t leave Amon behind, however.  
  
  
The beast felt something akin to frustration as it came to a realization. Somebody else was going to have to deal with him.

 

-POV Change-

  
Kaneki knew it felt like his lungs were being pried from his body with nothing but a pair of rusty pliers ( _he would know_ ). He also knew he was fighting Shachi and was well-aware that his ass was getting handed to him.  
  
  
What he did not understand was why he couldn’t remember starting the fight, why there were no voices whispering in his ear, or why all of his emotional walls were on the verge of collapse.  
  
  
It felt like somebody hot glued all his human bits back onto him and **_pain hurt again_**. Panic was setting in as well ( _but he could fight, he knew he strong_ ), all the stronger in its unfamiliarity. Kaneki scampered away from Shachi’s attempt to fracture his already ruined arm ( _his body could still move on autopilot. Wonderful_ ). He felt a thick tug in the small of his back and an terrible itch spreading over his face.  
  
  
Snapping his head in the direction of the tug, Kaneki felt the source of his irritation fall from his head. Whatever it was, he didn’t care, because whythefuckwasAmonwrappedinhiskagune!?  


Abandoning the battle in an instant, Kaneki released Amon and sprinted towards him. Shachi moved at the same time, but Kaneki was faster and lighter. He fell to his knees and fluttered his hands in a panic over Amon’s body, desperately searching for any evidence of wounds he could never forgive himself for making.   
  
  
Though he was growing hysterical ( _he was feeling too much oh God it was all too much and_ ** _his arm was mangled_** ), Kaneki flared his kagune out behind him, hoping it would last under Shachi’s hammering blows ( _if you expend too much energy that wound won’t heal_ ). He felt pieces of it get torn away even as he breathed a sigh of relief, resting his forehead against Amon’s knees.  
  
  
The investigator was still standing and looked disorientated, but there were no wounds on him. Shachi’s roars faded into the background ( _in fact, he was certain he’d gone deaf_ ) as Kaneki wrapped his arms around Amon’s legs, reveling in the warmth flooding his veins ( _he hadn’t died, they’d met again, he’d kept him safe, yes, yes, yes_ ).  


Oh shit, he was having some kind of emotional breakdown. Kaneki quickly released Amon’s legs and concealed his face with his good arm, realizing for the first time that it was completely bare. Just as he felt the Dove kneel before him, another chunk of his kagune was ripped off. His defence was getting kind of scanty ( ** _y ou wouldn’t need defence if he was dead_ ** ).   
  
  
Amon gently pried Kaneki’s arm away, forcing him to meet his blazing eyes ( _time is running short_ ). The set of the investigator’s features was hopeful, frightened, and brimming with adulation ( _what was that supposed to mean? His heart felt constricted and he wanted to cry_ ) and he seemed to be absorbing every nook and cranny of Kaneki’s face ( _this was not happening to him right now - why would anyone adore him?_ ).  
  
  
He wanted to say something, anything, but the voices were back and they were mocking him and he fervently hoped they weren’t showing up in his expressions ( ~~ ** _oh what’s this? Looks like your tastes don’t match mine. Softer men are so much easier to kill, you know. Then again, that’s not what you want to do, riiiight?_**~~ ).

  
“It’s Kaneki Ken…right ( ~~ ** _riiiiiiiiight_**~~ )?”

  
Amon whispered ( ~~ ** _how cute! He’s as stricken as you are! What’s going to happen next?_** ~~ **_Are they both too stupid to notice they’re going to die?_ ** ~~**_Yamori, you were always such a boring man…_**~~ ).   
 

“ ** _Nope. I’m just a ghoul now_**.”  


 

-POV Change-

 

Though it wanted everyone to shut up, it couldn’t help but be grateful for Yamori’s intervention. Amon had flinched backwards and his eyes had taken on a steely element at Yamori's callous statement. Since he had regained his bearings, the beast supposed it could attend to its duties.  
  
  
Its kagune had been completely totalled by now, however there was plenty of available meat on the floor. Shachi would not eat it ( _honour was foreign concept to it, but it understood its effects on others_ ), giving it an advantage. Its mask settled back into place as it scooped up and tore into a bloody chunk ( _refreshing_ ). 

  
“I won’t let you kill my important things.”  
  


It growled, finally free to fight properly. It launched itself towards its opponent, bloodlust in its gaze. Though the man parried many attacks, with the regeneration of its kagune it was holding its own quite well. Shachi was growing tired and was beginning to flick his eyes towards the exit ( _distract him, don’t let him escape_ ).    
  


“I made a promise not to die.” 

  
It stated, dulcet voice ( _a crude imitation of Rize’s_ ) instantly refocusing Shachi’s attention. 

  
“However, if it's to save this one, I might have to apologize.” 

  
It continued, aiming to get a grip on his kagune ( _then pop out and eat the enemy's kakuhou_ ). Dodging, Shachi stepped closer to the tower in the middle of the room ( ** _t_** _he best way out_ ).   
  


“I think I’ll revise my promise. I’ll become so strong that I won’t have to die. But if I am overwhelmed by an opponent and if my survival meant the death of my friends…I won’t allow it.” 

  
It mused. Its calculating stare was drinking in the reduction in Shachi’s mobility and trying to determine how much longer it would have to wait to strike. **_One final push._**

  
“If I were to die though…”

  
It was reaching out, stretching its blackened fingertips towards the opponent’s back.

  
“I’d take you with me to see Hell.”

  
It dug its hands in deep, squeezing through the ghoul’s ropey muscles to find its goal. A scream of frustration was ripped from its lips however, when Shachi moved much faster than he should have been able to ( _deceitful_ ) and plunged his arms into its side, seeking to copy its motions.  
  
  
Blood was bubbling up and out of its mouth as it laughed ( _Rize was right about soft bodies_ ). It couldn’t find the organ it was seeking and it knew Shachi was close to recovering what it had taken from him.  
  
  
Wrenching itself free, the beast stumbled into a crowd of CCG officers and bore witness to Shachi's quick escape. It had failed. Broke the promise. It had no more purpose. It wasn’t the alpha anymore.

 

-POV Change-

 

None of the investigators had been capable of interfering with the whirlwind battle between Shachi and Kaneki. Amon had tried, of course ( _though he was confused and alarmed, he was also very very worried for Kaneki’s safety_ ), however both ghouls brushed off anything lighter than a death blow as if it were the wind. They were moving far too quickly and closely for heavy hitting, and so the Doves had simply waited ( _Amon had tried to go over to Shinohara to form a strategy, but everything had ended before he could_ ).  
  
  
The duel had ended abruptly and Kaneki was now surrounded by countless CCG members, horribly wounded, and was emitting a noise that was getting more terrifying by the second ( _was that even possible at this point?_ ). 

   
Amon rushed towards him ( _the other Doves pulled back like the tide, probably out of fear of the **screaming**_ ), desperate to reach him quickly and deliver the signal to Nagachika ( _the little electronic tracker in his shoe was relaying his voice to him, wherever he was_ ). It seemed like the entire world was conspiring against him however, when an Arata-clad Shinohara waved him away. Amon steeled himself and kept pushing forwards, ignoring Shinohara’s continued signage.

  
He couldn’t stop here. ** _He wouldn’t stop here_**. This wasn’t the time for obedience or fear or anything else. Kaneki Ken was damaged as all Hell and **_he needed to get out of here_**. There was no way Amon could get his body to move as quickly as Arata though, and Shinohara reached their mutual target first.  
  
  
This proved to be a bad idea, because the instant the armoured investigator entered Kaneki’s personal space, he was tackled to the floor by the hysterically ranting half-ghoul.

  
“ ~~ ** _Ah, it’s been so long since I ate anything but bad meat._**~~ ”

  
“No, no, this isn’t right!” 

  
“ ** _ ~~Well, I suppose even an old man will have to do~~._** ” 

  
“ ** _Quit complaining. I thought you weren’t a gourmet._ ** ”   
  


“I WON’T LET YOU!”  
  


Shinohara was putting up an impressive fight, but Kaneki’s manic strength still surpassed his own. Kaneki’s jaws were descending towards him though every inch was fraught with internal conflict. Just as a crunch and a slurp met his ears, Amon got a hold of a piece of Kaneki’s tattered suit and hurled him off of his superior.  
  
  
Glancing down quickly, Amon saw that a piece of Shinohara’s armour was missing, nothing more ( _thank God_ ).  
  
  
Piercing laughter reverberated through his brain and he turned to face the source of it. He’d thrown Kaneki a fair distance, but the insane chortles leaving his mouth sounded like they were right next to Amon. They didn’t sound like Kaneki. They sounded **_wrong_**.  
 

Leaving Shinohara in the dirt ( _he was ok, it was ok_ ), Amon sprinted towards Kaneki. Laughter was no longer the only thing reaching his ears. He could make out the tortured sobs underneath the cascade of threats and suggestions slipping out of Kaneki’s mouth; all seemingly directed toward himself.  
  
  
Amon’s plans were falling apart and being replaced by fragmented thoughts ( _did his advice lead to this? He had contributed to Kaneki’s obsession with strength, his adherence to the path he was on?_ ). Thousands of half questions filled his stomach like stones ( _why had this happened? What had Kaneki done to deserve this? What were those voices!?_ ).  
  
  
Steps away, he prayed fervently to God for an answer or divine intervention, something to help the soul kneeling before him covered in the blood of the fallen and trying to shred the mask on his face. He wanted to destroy the voices that had a hold on the delirious half-ghoul’s mind. He wanted there to be something left to save.  
  
  
Amon’s quinque swung in a wide arc, stopping inches above Kaneki’s bent head.

  
“It’s ok, right!?”  
  


Amon asked in a tone thick with hurt ( _where did everything go wrong?_ ).  
  


“You’re just a ghoul, right!?” 

   
He cried out, as the arm holding up his quinque shook.   


  
Kaneki finally inclined his head towards him and his muttering ceased. Somehow, even with the disturbing crow mask and deranged expression, Amon couldn’t separate the man before him from the one in the alley ( _a faint lonely smile_ ), the basement on Aogiri’s building ( _crying and wounded_ ), or the night they met ( _determined to make him listen and scared witless_ ).  
  
  
No matter how convinced Kaneki was that he was little more than a monster inside, Amon couldn’t see it. Even when he attacked Shinohara, even when he had looked at him completely without emotion, Amon could only see the most amazing ( _compassionate, warm, complicated, overburdened, and powerful_ ) person he’d ever met.

  
“Why are you doing this to yourself!?”

  
Amon’s question tore out of him, wretched and wet ( _was he crying?_ ). He kept his blazing eyes on Kaneki’s upturned face and willed him to understand his feelings. Relief nearly brought him to his knees when Kaneki’s mask began to dissolve.

  
“I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

  
He admitted, sounding as choked up as Amon. Completely bare of defences, the half-ghoul’s need for trust and companionship was more obvious than ever ( _it made his stomach drop and his heart lurch_ ).  
  
  
Quickly, Amon demanded:

  
“Nagachika. Now.”

  
Before lifting the now silent Kaneki into his arms and pressing his lips to his temple, promising

  
“You won’t be.” 

   
In his peripheral vision Amon could see his fellow Doves moving in, and was surprised to hear a growl rip from his own throat. Nagachika needed to reach him first, nobody else. Even fucked-up as he was, Kaneki had valued and prioritized his safety above his own. Amon would return the favour if necessary ( _he would wound the other investigators if that’s what it took to leave_ ).

  
He slipped into a defensive stance and stared his partner down as she apprehensively approached. Amon only had to keep them at bay for seven minutes. Maybe he wouldn’t have to fight. He could hold out.

  
Unfortunately for Amon, something incomprehensible appeared amongst the CCG agents. The blank-masked ghoul from the alleyway was sweeping through the distracted crowd soundlessly and heading directly for him. The investigators behind the ghoul quickly picked up on the foreign presence and began to take action, however those up front remained unaware.   
  
  
Akira was still inching towards him slowly and her attention was completely focused on his bizarre behaviour. Amon called out to her:

  
“Turn around!”  
  


Moments before the blank-masked ( _No-Face_ ) ghoul reached her ( _thank God_ ). Akira swivelled on her heel and brandished her quinque at the new threat. The ghoul side-stepped her weapon in a playful movement before tipping forwards and ripping his gloved fingers through her side like butter.  
  
  
Akira screamed in a combination of shock and pain before snapping her jaw shut and glaring at the ghoul silently. No-Face did not acknowledge her glare or the surge of investigators behind his back. Instead, he chose to address Amon.

  
“That’s mine. Give it back.”

   
He stated monotonously, gesturing with his free ( _not wrapped around Akira’s kidney_ ) hand towards Kaneki. Amon tore his gaze from his partner’s sluggishly bleeding torso to meet Kaneki’s eyes. The half-ghoul was struggling to stay awake and clutching at his right hand weakly ( _he carefully interlaced their fingers and Kaneki’s grip relaxed_ ).  
  
  
Amon doubted he’d heard what the ghoul had said or was aware of his surroundings ( _he didn't know if he ever would be again_ ). There wouldn’t be a way of verifying if this ghoul was a friend of Kaneki’s and, even if there was, Amon wasn’t willing to let go.

  
Still…

  
“Let her go and I’ll think about it.”

  
Amon responded through gritted teeth. No-Face blatantly tightened his grip ( _Akira’s face went white but she didn’t make a sound_ ) as he told Amon,

  
“That’s not how this works. Give him back or everyone here dies.”

  
The threat seemed unrealistic coming from a ghoul that had yet to activate his kagune. Amon tried to analyze the other Doves expressions through his peripheral vision. None of them looked particularly intimidated and those in his division looked to him for orders. Shinohara, his superior, must still be out of commission.  
  
  
Gently, Amon extradited his hand from Kaneki’s and fired off a halt and attack signal while simultaneously striking an agreement with No-Face. 

  
“Alright. I’ll put him down and you’ll let her go then.”

  
He tried, rapidly forming the hand sign for false trades. Though he wasn’t Nagachika, Amon’s academy training had prepared him for ransom situations well enough to form a rudimentary plan. A single ghoul anywhere below SS-rank should be unable to cause major casualties while cornered by so many armed investigators. They’d initiate the trade and take him out.

  
“Perfect. Get on with it then.”

  
No-Face agreed flatly. The spread of the crimson stain on Akira’s shirt picked up speed when the ghoul withdrew his hand slightly ( _bastard_ ) and inclined his head, waiting for Amon to make the first move.  
  
  
As quickly as he could bring himself to, Amon set Kaneki’s injured body at his feet. The half-ghoul curled in on himself, causing Amon to tear off his coat and tuck Kaneki into it. He then took two steps forward and nodded at the ghoul across from him.  
  


No-Face withdrew his hand and all hell broke loose. Doves swarmed around Akira, pulling her towards the back of the crowd to safety. Quinques were released from their cases and dozens on men and women threw themselves at the enemy. No-Face sprinted towards Amon, who then whipped around to guard Kaneki ( _No-Face would never make it past the mob_ ).  
  
  
When he turned, however, Amon found himself staring down a crow-masked ghoul ( _another one from the alley. Fantastic_ ) who was pulling Kaneki to his feet. Amon attacked the man immediately and landed a devastating hit on his shoulder. The Crow swore loudly but didn’t release his hold on Kaneki’s barely conscious form.  


Startlingly, No-Face’s breath heated the back of Amon’s neck ( _he’d outrun the others_ ) and forced him dodge whatever attack the ghoul had planned. Flowing from one motion to the next, Amon swung his weapon like a club. Predictably, No-Face made to side-step the large and heavy blade. Directing all of his strength into his arms, Amon separated his quinque into two pieces.  
  
  
The right half followed his strike’s original trajectory while the left was pulled sharply backwards in a Herculean motion. The blade met No-Face’s flesh with a ( _satisfying_ ) crunch that forced him off his feet. Knowing he had broken several of the ghoul’s bones and that his recovery should be further delayed by the advancing tide of investigators, Amon readied himself to take on the Crow…who was now in kakuja armour ( _wasn't that supposed to be rare!?_ ).   


Just as he was beginning to wonder if the fight could get any harder, Amon heard the sound of rending metal. He didn’t look away from the Crow ( _his threat level had been elevated too high_ ) but he heard cries of pain and distress coming from his fellow Doves.  
  
  
Since the Crow was a half-kakuja it was likely that No-Face had some tricks left up his sleeve too. Amon could only pray those tricks weren’t enough to overpower everyone behind him.  
  
  
He advanced on the Crow while he retreated, tugging Kaneki along. Smoothly, the ghoul slung Kaneki over his uninjured shoulder and began to back away more quickly. The distance between them was widening. Amon lunged forward, rushing through the hail of spikes raining down from the Crow’s ukaku ( _how suitable_ ). Seven minutes had definitely passed by now ( _could Nagachika even enter the building?_ ).  


He had to get Kaneki back and pull out of this situation before it turned even more sour. His leg was abruptly pierced and he winced in pain ( _Akira wouldn’t cry out and neither would he_ ) before pressing on. Smaller cuts were appearing all over his body ( _he would have to defend soon_ ) with each step that he took. The Crow could definitely kill him if he wanted to.  
  
  
A blade rammed through one of his feet and then the other, halting him in his tracks. He pulled them both out ( _gritting his teeth so hard he felt one start to give_ ) and the scent of his own blood filled the air. Several bullets whipped through the air around him and buried themselves in the Crow’s armour.  
  
  
Amon nearly sighed in relief, grateful that the other investigators could finally escape their fight with No-Face. Then he felt a wet hand wrap around his throat and realized the bullets weren’t meant for the Crow.  


They were fighting a losing battle. Amon used the hilt of his quinque to ram into the body behind him but found it unable to penetrate the flesh ( _was he another kakuja?_ ). His vision was beginning to go spotted when No-Face’s chokehold on him was broken. He wheezed a few times, regaining his breath as he stared at the disembodied limb lying at his feet. No-Face’s arm had been severed at the elbow.  
  
  
A steadying hand ( _Akira_ ) gripped Amon’s shoulder and held him in place as No Face hurriedly bent and collected his arm ( _why?_ ) before sweeping out of the room under fire.  
  
  
The Crow was nowhere to be seen, injured Doves were everywhere, all of Kanou’s experiments had been destroyed, and his partner was the last thing holding him together. Just another failed plan.

   
“DAMN IT!!!!!”

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Though his consciousness was fading in and out, Kaneki was still aware of a few things. Yomo had finally stopped walking and had set him down. Fuzzily, he acknowledged the presence of his friends all around him. He tried to murmur reassurances that he was fine ( _he felt lighter than he had in months, but maybe that was just blood loss_ ), however he couldn't get his mouth to work.  
  
  
He passed back out for a time before thundering footsteps awoke him. Uta raced around the corner into their hideaway and was standing stock-still facing away from them ( _his outline seemed wrong, like something was coating his body or something was missing but...he couldn't...quite see_ ). Kaneki felt Banjou leave his side ( _he smiled a little; of course Banjou had been there_ ) and approach not-quite-Uta. 

  
"Uta-san, are you alright?" 

  
Banjou called out, sounding worried ( _why? what was wrong?_ ). Kaneki struggled to focus while Uta cocked his head to the side and rushed towards Banjou. There was a spray of blood and a dull thud as Banjou's legs gave out beneath him. 

  
"Ah, I'm sorry! That battle was too exhilarating and I just...lost control." 

  
That was Uta's voice ( _carrying the undercurrent of amusement Kaneki was so fine-tuned to_ ). Had he...stabbed Banjou? There were cries of worry ( _the trio, probably_ ) and a rumble of suspicion ( _Yomo?_ ) shortly following Uta's blithe admission.

  
"Is he dead?"

  
Definitely Yomo.   
  


"Ughhh..."

  
Banjou was groaning ( _he was alive...good_ ). 

  
"So he's a ukaku then? How nice."

  
Uta sounded faintly disappointed ( _where had he been during the confrontation with Shachi?_ ).  
  
  
A conclusive thought sunk into Kaneki like water through the cracks of a rock. As it trickled into his consciousness ( _Uta was missing, now he was here, he had tried to harm Amon and the girl, he was amused and then disappointed, and Yomo didn't believe his remorse..._ ) and a dark belief began to grow.  
  
  
Yomo rubbed his shoulders as they stiffened ( _so he was still next to him...guarding...him?_ ) and reassured him about Banjou's health, mistaking the cause of his growing tension ( _or lying through his teeth_ ).  
  
  
Yomo didn't trust Uta either.  
  
  
He was safe. He was tired...  
  
  
Clinging to his newfound suspicions, Kaneki drifted into a dreamless sleep.


	17. Predator (Blessing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaneki Ken finds himself, crossing a few burnt bridges to do so.

Shattered glass and crumpled paper formed a thick blanket over the oak floors of Hide’s tiny apartment. A red leather-bound journal lay empty on the ground, the plans inside thoroughly destroyed. Nagachika Hideyoshi lay in a plush recliner in the eye of the storm with an arm flung over his face.   
  
  
Music reverberated throughout the apartment ( _one of his neighbours upstairs was screaming at him to turn it down_ ) and caused the paper fragments to shake. Hide had destroyed months of work in a matter of seconds as blind rage propelled him. The red book had contained the plans he was most confident in, the ones he’d attempted to execute last night. 

  
“Fuck. FuckfuckfuckFUCK!!!”

  
He swore, just barely keeping a lid on the urge to wreck his apartment further ( _his neighbour was going to complain to the manager_ ).

   
“What a waste of fucking time. He was RIGHT THERE!”

  
Hide had gotten **_so close_**. He had heard ** _everything_** through the transmitter. He was just **_steps away_** from the action. 

   
“AAAARRRGHHHH!!!!”

  
He screamed into his arm before biting down on it harshly. His teeth overlapped with the marks already present and blood seeped freely into his mouth ( _at least the scar was his now_ ). 

   
In Kanou’s lab Hide had been held up by a ghoul in a ridiculous moon mask ( _the Gourmet of all people…_ ). The bastard hadn’t bothered trying to kill him at all, though he sure as hell wiped out Hide’s escort ( _people bits would be in his shoes for weeks_ ). Instead he’d kept him at bay and had taunted him.

  
Hide was still seething.

  
“I’m his best friend no matter what that guy says…”

  
He hissed in irritation.He would’ve preferred it if the ghoul had’ve just killed him. Being blocked right at the doorway that led to Kaneki and toyed with by someone who clearly **_knew Kaneki_** and **_knew who Hide was_** …it was rubbing his failures directly into his face. Then that fucker had even bitten him, said that ** _Kaneki tasted better_** , and called him cattle, then **_called the bite a BRAND and said he could see Kaneki when he learned his place_**.  
  
  
Hide glanced at the angry purple scar tissue and fresh blood on his arm and smiled viciously. Just like he wrote over the Gourmet’s "brand", he’d write over that fucker’s plan. He’d write over the CCG’s and Kanou’s and the whole fucking world’s ( ** _screw destiny_** ).  
  
  
Hide had learned from his mistakes and from his complacency.  
  
  
Kaneki was **_his_ _best friend_** and he had some procedures to revise.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

  

Upon entering hospital room 306, Seidou Takizawa began to rub his eyes furiously as his brain struggled to make sense of the image before him. Amon, his serious and respectable mentor, was looking mildly distressed and being buried in bouquets of flowers by Nagachika and Akira ( _who was heavily bandaged and wasn’t supposed to be moving around_ ) while lying in a hospital bed ( _Akira’s hospital bed nonetheless_ ).  
  
  
Amon had been released from the hospital earlier that week ( _though the damage to his feet was horrible, he could get around with a wheelchair and was not required to remain bedridden_ ) and had invited him to visit Akira, since “being cooped up was really getting her down”.  
  
  
She certainly didn’t look down. She was definitely enjoying embarrassing Amon ( _she was placing a flower crown on his head now that matched the daisy chain around his neck_ ).  


Seidou stood in the doorway for several minutes, waiting for the trio to notice him. Nagachika and Akira continued to keep up fast-paced banter with one another as they added to Amon’s flower jewelry ( _who was steadily turning scarlet but remained stubbornly quiet and still_ ).  
  
  
Eventually, leaning over to wedge a lily into Amon’s chest pocket, Akira winced and tilted off centre. Flowers and pollen scattered everywhere as Amon lunged to catch her and flutteringly patted down her sides to check for blood. Akira grumbled begrudgingly about how she could take care of herself and how Amon was a worrywart while rolling her eyes at Nagachika.  
  
  
This lull in the surreal atmosphere filling the hospital room finally prompted Seidou to announce his presence with an exaggerated cough. Simultaneously, everyone in the room turned to him with the expressions of guilty children. Then they all burst into hysterical laughter ( _even Amon, whose guffaws were tossing petals all over the place_ ).  
  
  
Seidou’s grip on the bouquet in his hand tightened as he worriedly wondered what was so funny ( _were any of his clothes on backwards? It had happened before_ ). Finally, gasping for air and with tears in the corners of her eyes, Akira explained.  


“We thought…haha…we thought you were the nurse again. She came in before when Nagachika was, pfft, singing me a 'get-well song'. Then she came in when Amon was doing wheelchair tricks. Then she saw…hahahahahaha…she saw them dancing. For my entertainment. Oh geez, gimme a second to catch my breath. She yelled at everyone, and, hehehehe, she threatened to film them next time she caught them doing something…embarrassing.”   
  


She choked out past burbling laughter and Amon’s attempts to cover her mouth. Envy filled Seidou’s chest at how far his superior had gone to brighten her day ( _and how little he himself had done_ ). He was also annoyed with Nagachika for participating and causing the first incident. It wouldn’t do to tarnish the CCG’s reputation.  
  
  
Lifting his chin in distain, Seidou muttered:

  
“Well since you’re doing so well, I’ll just drop these off and be on my way.” 

   
Before attempting to hand the bouquet to Akira. Oddly, Nagachika’s eyes fixed on the flowers and his face lit up like they were for him or something. Akira and Amon grinned cheekily at him and teased him about “caring after all”. Akira finally took the bouquet from his hands and peered inside, gasping in delight.

  
“Really, Seidou, you don’t seem like the flower-bringing type, but I’m grateful. I have no idea how you figured out sunflowers were my favourite or how you managed to find a florist who would include herbs in the bouquet, but thank you. It’s a really nice touch.”

  
She smiled at him more softly than ever before and Seidou’s heart raced ( _he hoped he wasn’t blushing, he did NOT like Akira_ ). As much as he wanted to take credit for what was apparently an excellent gift, he felt compelled to tell the truth. He cleared his throat while Akira cooed over a bizarre cat figure nestled in the middle of the flowers.  
  
  
When she looked up, he gestured to the envelope on the side of the bouquet and said in a strained voice, 

  
“Those weren’t from me. They were resting against the door.”

  

-POV Change-  


  

Amon moved forwards and pulled Akira down to sit on the hospital bed beside him while he admired her gifts. It was great to see her so happy ( _the first few weeks after their injuries had been rough_ ) and he wanted to thank the sender of the flowers personally. Deftly, Akira flicked the envelope open and pulled out the slip of paper within. It read:

  
“Sorry for the trouble - it won’t happen again. Get well soon.”  
  


And was signed was a very well drawn…eyepatch. With a centipede design.  
  
  
Oh.  
  
  
**_Oh_**.  
  
  
While Akira’s expression was now positively murderous, Amon was pretty sure he looked lovestruck ( _he felt weak in the knees and giddy because_ ** _Kaneki had been here_** _and he was_ ** _doing well_** _and was_ ** _really thoughtful_** _and had_ ** _good taste in gifts_** ).  
  
  
In a deathly quiet voice, Akira asked,

  
“Seidou…did you see a guy with white hair and an eyepatch while you were in the hall?”  
  


Seidou ( _the poor guy_ ) made a sour face and sighed,

  
“Yeah yeah, your boyfriend was there.”

  
Akira’s eyebrows twitched, warning Amon and Nagachika of the explosion that was to follow ( _they both covered their ears and whispered a prayer for Seidou_ ).  
  


“HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND YOU IMBECILE! HE’S THE FREAKIN HALF GHOUL WE’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR! THAT WAS GODDAMN KANEKI KEN YOU ARRRRGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

  
Akira berated Seidou until Nagachika let a single chuckle slip from his mouth, apparently unable to restrain it any longer. Amon looked at him in horror ( _He thought Nagachika was smarter than this! You fool, don’t laugh when she’s angry!!!!_ ) and Akira’s head whipped around in his direction with an audible crack.  
  
  
Nagachika smirked like an idiot ( _why are you smirking!? Have you lost your mind!?_ ) and realization seemed to dawn on Akira ( _or at least, that’s what Amon thought when she looked more furious than ever_ ). 

  
“YOU! YOU SCHEMING LITTLE SHIT! YOU SET THIS UP!”  
  


She growled, trying to get up and beat him to death ( _Amon restrained her as gently as he could, looking to Seidou for assistance when she began to struggle. Seidou stayed where he was however, white as a ghost after realizing his mistake_ ). 

  
“I maaaaaay have loudly mentioned that I was visiting this specific hospital room several times…LODULY…in public. How was I to know that Kaneki would be trailing me?”  
  


Nagachika questioned innocently ( _smiling like a fox_ ). Akira deflated abruptly, flopping back onto the hospital bed ( _and head-butting Amon in the stomach...ouch_ ) with a heavy groan and covering her face. 

  
“Whatever,” 

  
She muttered in a tone thick with exasperation,  
  


“He’s your best-insane-ghoul pal, so I won’t kill him…today.” 

  
Everybody ( _excluding Seidou_ ) winced at the “insane” part and tried to block out the memory of several different voices slithering from Kaneki Ken’s throat.

  
“Ugh, I didn’t expect such him to have such good taste in gifts.”

  
She whispered and Amon’s heart jumped. His gaze shot to Nagachika, wondering if he’d heard that too. Nagachika waggled his eyebrows at him and mouthed “allllllyyyy”. Even if Seidou was having a bad day, things were looking up for them.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~  


 

A pile of papers tipped off of Kaneki’s bed when a gust of wind from the opening door knocked into them. Kaneki backed into his room, saying goodnight to Hinami and the other ghouls in their shared apartment. He let out a heavy exhale as the lock clicked behind him and he bent to collect the papers from the floor.  
  
  
Each lined sheet was filled to the margins with notes detailing all of Kaneki’s thoughts during his recovery period. Shachi had managed to knick some pretty sensitive parts of his body and it had taken some time for him to recover from the damage. 

   
He’d felt disturbingly human on the first night he’d awoken after entering Kanou’s lab and had hungrily torn into some of the cereal they kept around the apartment to avoid suspicion. He’d been violently ill immediately afterwords and knew now that the “human” feeling was due to his extremely low RC cell count following his body's repairs.  
  
  
For days he hadn’t wanted to eat any meat, ghoulish hunger kept at bay while his body was more human than ghoul. His friends had forced it down his throat anyway.  


Soon enough, he became **_ravenous_**. Then…he was whole again.  
  
  
Some resentment lingered inside of him ( _he’d been_ ** _nearly human_** ) and the temptation to starve or wound himself to that point again hung like an albatross around his neck, but overall he was relieved to be healthy at last. His notes made it plain to him that healthy was best ( _when his body collapsed, so did his mind. The things he had written in the first few days…didn’t sound like him and, in a way, **they did**. It was more frightening than anything he'd seen so far_ ). 

   
Kaneki sat on the bed and sifted through the pages, not bothering to arrange them in chronological order ( _the timeframe wasn’t important after he’d recovered_ ). He paused on a half-blank sheet and began to write whatever came to mind, organizing his thoughts as he went.

  
Today, he finally felt ready to reflect on his past. This note-writing was an exercise Hide had introduced to him during one of his low periods in high school ( _the first and only time he truly wanted to die_ ). It helped him reflect on his state of mind and drove him to think deeply about any problems he’d been having.  
  
  
The exercise had actually helped him solve most of them.  


When Amon had said Hide’s name, Kaneki had suddenly thought of note-taking for the first time since he’d received his transplant. Hide’s name still invoked so many behaviours and memories in him.   
  
  
Kaneki’s pen sketched out a delicate loop on the page at the end of the t in “dependent”. He’d always been dependent on somebody for guidance or for strength. Being dependent on Hide hadn’t been completely healthy but God…letting Rize and Yamori into his psyche had been insanely dangerous. He couldn’t help but blame himself for being a fool, though he couldn’t exactly prevent the torture that had exposed his weakest points.  
  
  
He had even been forced to rely on an alternate persona to handle the pressure his two worst nightmares had placed on his mind. Though Kaneki Ken was susceptible to the prodding of Rize and Yamori, his basest self ( _the thing Uta had called his "beast"_ ) wasn’t.  
  
  
Still, even that had collapsed in the end ( _taking all of his mental defences with it, thank God those were back in place_ ), leaving him alone in his head with both of them. At least that hadn’t happened until after he’d scared Shachi off and saved Amon’s ass ( _if his impromptu grab-and-cry could be called saving_ ).  


Kaneki began to sketch out the outline of Amon’s expression ( _adulation_ ), occasionally pausing to continue writing. He had gone above and beyond to preserve Amon’s safety. Even stripped of all other emotions and ambitions, he ( _it_ ) had still prioritized the investigator’s safety.  
  
  
That in itself was concerning. He didn’t know the man particularly well ( _not like Touka or Hinami or even Banjou and his crew_ ) and he was more than capable of protecting himself with the backing of an entire crowd of investigators. _ **Or maybe he wasn’t**_. It made Kaneki uncomfortable to reimagine his fight against Shachi with Amon outside of his grasp.  
  
  
Kaneki had even considered him “special” and “important”. Looking down at his drawing, it was obvious to Kaneki that Amon thought of him similarly. He’d even kissed him ( _Kaneki’s stomach lurched in a combination of blind terror, guilt, and giddy delight_ ).  


The pen point tore through the page as “why?” was etched into it. Possible answers came to him, though each was as difficult to believe as the last ( _the investigator saw something in him worthy of affection, Hide had told him stories that somehow convinced him that Kaneki wasn’t a monster, he’d suffered an extreme blow to the head that was making him confuse Kaneki with someone else except **he'd said his name**_ ).  
  
  
Giving up on that train of thought, Kaneki returned to pondering his part of that “why?”. Ever since the first time they’d met, the only person Kaneki had allowed himself to break down in front of had been Amon. He cried during their first meeting, their second, nearly cried during their third, and had definitely cried during their fourth. Without reason ( _Hell, defying reason_ ) Amon had protected him, comforted him, and bared everything to him ( _his hurt, his ideals, his desperate thoughts and hopes_ ).  


Though the ghouls meant well, they were raised to keep secrets, to crush certain emotions, and to adhere to values Kaneki struggled to understand. Amon responded to him like…well, like a person. Kaneki now understood Uta’s attraction to what he once was. Even beyond that, he felt connected to the investigator ( _almost to the point he was bound to Hide_ ) and gravitated towards him with blind faith.

As ridiculous as it seemed, **_he trusted him_**. And though he couldn’t grasp why, Amon trusted him too ( _it made him feel sick, though it also filled him with warmth_ ). Honestly, Kaneki might even call this relationship love, but he’d never fallen for a man before and wasn’t even sure if he was capable of such feelings anymore.  
  
  
It was close to how he felt for Hide, however even that was muddled ( _their friendship had been so simple before; now everything he felt was extreme and coloured with desperation_ ).  
  
  
Either way, both of them were "special". Hide and Amon were his allies ( _he strongly suspected they had tried to extradite him from Kanou’s lab_ ). He wanted to see them again. To do so, he’d have to learn how to fight his own battles ( _that sentence was printed on nearly every page_ ).  


Kaneki delicately folded the sheet of paper he’d been writing on and slipped it into a drawer ( _he’d filled it with the questions he wanted to return to_ ). Drawing out a fresh sheet ( _he was finally out of plain white paper and stuck with the butterfly print Hinami had picked out_ ) he decided to summarize his findings.  
  
  
His mental state was shaky, eating ghouls made it worse, injuries made it far worse, Hide and Amon were allies, he needed to begin distancing himself from Rize and Yamori ( _cause #1 of everything wrong with him_ ), and he needed to finish his business with Kanou once and for all ( _cause 2_ ). Drawing a wide circle around his list, Kaneki scribbled another note: “need closure”. He wanted a definite end to this black period of his life ( _will it ever end?)_.  


His questions wouldn’t stop haunting him until he got answers and he knew exactly who he had to go see. 

  

~~~~~~~~

 

The shipping container that Yomo lived in was surprisingly cozy. Kaneki was startled at how well it blended in ( _and privately considered getting one of his own_ ) and how cute Yomo’s rustic decor was ( _there were doilies on his tables_ ). He’d been there for several hours already, quizzing Yomo about all the information he’d collected about Kanou and for stories about his and Yoshimura’s past.  
  
  
He was surprised at how forthcoming Yomo had become ( _he remembered trying to ask the man questions back when he’d first arrived at Anteiku_ ) and felt himself becoming calmer with each word that left Yomo’s lips. It was strangely comforting to see the parallels between his own search for power and Yomo’s and to discover that other half-ghoul’s existed ( _though they were not manufactured)_.  
  
  
He had also verified his assumption that Uta was not entirely trustworthy ( _though he couldn't be considered an enemy_ ). Better yet, he finally understood why Yoshimura had kept the secrets he had ( _a knot of betrayal loosened in his chest_ ) and had helped him when he first turned ( _he could finally stop fearing that he was being used_ ).  


It was good for him, Kaneki thought, to re-establish the trust he had had in the ghouls of Anteiku. It was agitating to know that even the people at Helter Skelter didn’t know much about Kanou, but Yomo informed him that he used to be a surgeon for the CCG and that they were hunting him with all the resources they had. There were also whispered suspicions that he had joined Aogiri Tree for the sake of protection and continuing his experiments.  
  
  
The news eased some of the burden on Kaneki’s shoulders ( _he had feared Kanou would be able to make more mutants freely in the meantime and his heart ached for his fellow half-ghouls. However, if he had been forced to seek protection from an infamous human-hating organization, it was unlikely that Kanou would be able to take action again for some time_ ).  
  
  
In the middle of asking Yomo another question ( _about Kuro and Shiro, the twins he had met_ ) he heard a rattling noise and went to go investigate. Though Yomo leapt to stop him, as Kaneki approached another shipping container he smelt something familiar ( _something like himself_ ). 

~~~~~~~  
 

The state the Rize was in was deplorable. It made Kaneki feel wretched, especially when he compared the Rize before him now to the one inside his head.   
  
  
He thought he’d be angry when he saw her, or impressed, or afraid. He never imagined he’d be in pain. Rize had **_changed_** him, in a sense. She was like family: a fundamental part of his life ( _that was messed up_ ). Though the Rize he hallucinated was a toxic apparition that mothered him while spilling his darkest secrets, the crazed drooling woman on the floor was…just that.  
  
  
Words pushed against Kaneki’s lips and crashed over him like a wave. He swallowed them back but soon felt like he was drowning in them instead.

  
“Rize…”

  
He breathed, kneeling and brushing a strand of her sweaty, blood-caked hair behind her ear ( _had he looked like this when Jason had…nevermind. Don't dwell on it_ ) and ignoring her muzzled attempts at biting his hands. 

  
“I suppose you wouldn’t remember me. I just…I never wanted this to happen to you.”

  
He continued. 

  
“You were so strong before. To me you represented what it meant to be a ghoul. To be powerful and free. You were my exact opposite.”

  
Kaneki laughed a little under his breath,

  
“I understand why Banjou was so taken with you. Even after you tried to kill me, I suppose I still…I idolized you. I won’t do that anymore, Rize.”

  
He prostrated himself on the stained floor. His forehead brushed the ground and the noises of a hungry animal surrounded him as a deep sorrow settled inside his bones.

  
“ ** _You aren’t a symbol. I’m sorry._** ” 

 

 ~~~~~~~~

 

Kaneki shut the door of the shipping container behind him and twitched when his eyes met Yomo’s. He honestly hadn’t expected him to wait outside while he spoke to Rize and wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. HIs mentor’s expression was stoney and he brushed past him into the container. Faintly, Kaneki smelt blood and could make out the satisfied noises of something well-fed.   
  
  
Yomo emerged with a significantly more open expression ( _probably because he hadn’t…he hadn’t hurt her_ ) and drew Kaneki into a sudden rough embrace. He rigidly stood in the circle of Yomo’s arms, unable to respond and waiting for him to let go. Opposing his hopes, Yomo maintained his awkward hugging stance while he spoke.

  
“You are far braver than I am, Kaneki Ken. It has been hard for you, hasn’t it, walking this thorny path?”

  
He questioned softly. A lump formed in Kaneki’s throat and he nodded stiffly. 

  
“Sometimes, I really want to stop you. I want to keep you in the cafe, or here, and make it so nothing can touch you. You are so **_young_** , Ken. But I know you need this. You can’t turn a blind eye to the injustices you’ve suffered. Still…”

  
From the corner of his eye, Kaneki could see unexpected tears streaming down Yomo’s cheeks. It felt like there was a cavity opening in his chest ( _a black hole that sucked in everyone he knew and dragged them into the dark_ ) and tearing at his flesh. Kaneki’s arms encircled Yomo and gripped him tightly to anchor him, finally returning the embrace.

  
“I hope your choices lead to a happy life or peace before death. Even if they don’t…I’m proud of everything you’ve achieved. Everything you’ve done. **_I’m so proud of you_**.”

  
Warm intentions lined Yomo’s words and God, it felt like standing in the sun in Hide’s mother’s kitchen when he was 12 years old and somebody finally cared about his day at school. It felt like every home cooked meal he’d ever eaten there, every pat on the back, each ruffling of his hair, and when he pressed his face into Yomo’s shoulder and cried like a child, he wondered if standing by the windows of Anteiku in the afternoon would feel the same.  
  


“I’m happy,”

  
He sobbed,

  
“I’m so happy you took me in. I want to come home.”

 

~~~~~~~~

  

The last dying rays of the sunset warmed his skin as Kaneki sipped a coffee, seated at a table with Yoshimura in the cafe. He gazed out the window unseeingly as he listened to everything Yoshimura had to say about his own story and matched the details with what Yomo had told him ( _some part of him couldn't let go of his suspicions_ ).  
  
  
Things were silent for a time after the old man finished. He was content to allow Kaneki to stew in his thoughts. Wordlessly, Kaneki stood and went to the coffee pot, brewing a new batch from memory. While he did so, Kaneki asked questions without pause.

  
“Manager, what was your wife like?”

  
“Why did you fall in love with her?”

  
“Do you think it all worked out for the best?”

  
“Would you do it all again?”  
  


“Do you think that she had to be human? If she was a ghoul, would things be different?”

  
“Why let humans keep coming here? And the investigators?”

  
Yoshimura let him speak and waited patiently while Kaneki served his coffee. He accepted it with a nod of thanks before he finally answered each and every query with care. The old man’s responses were coloured with sadness and nostalgia, though not with regret.  
  
  
He was grateful for his wife and child, loved them both (" _she was persistent, admirable, and warm. She was what I needed in my life"_ ), and believed that his relationship with humans throughout the years was not only necessary, but was also a blessing. 

  
“You never felt…that her attachment to you ruined her life?”

  
Kaneki asked, fervent curiosity making him coarse with his wording ( _he winced internally_ ). Yoshimura’s lips quirked and he hummed lowly. 

  
“I did, once. Then she told me to stop pitying myself. She said that I couldn’t dictate who she loved and that her every decision was hers alone.”

  
He chuckled dryly and Kaneki felt his chest compress, 

  
“Then she told me she wouldn’t adore someone terrible enough to destroy her life and that I wasn’t smart enough to trick her, so I had to be worth it. You can’t control other people, Kaneki. Their feelings towards you should be cherished, consequences be damned. **_They are beautiful_**.”

   
Kaneki’s eyes burned ( _he was becoming such a crybaby_ ) as he felt the weight of Yoshimura’s words settle on his shoulders ( _not like a burden, but like carrying his backpack to school, or like Hide's arm carelessly tossed over them_ ). He wasn’t sure if he had the strength to accept them yet, but he **_understood them_**. He bowed his head and whispered,

  
“I’ll defend their feelings. Boss...may I defend yours, too?”

  
Understanding his intention ( _he always did_ ), Yoshimura hummed an affirmation and stated,

  
“The coffee was good, I could use such a talented barista on my staff again.”

   
~~~~~~~

 

The bell on the door tinkled, notifying the cafe’s only two occupants of a new arrival. Touka kicked off her shoes and then looked upon their table with hurt mixing with frustration on her face ( _she must've known he was here_ ). She strode over to them and stopped at Kaneki’s side, staring him down ( _he supposed she had nothing left to say to him_ ).  
  
  
She was spinning a gold ring ( _that was her father’s wedding band. She’d shown him just once, one night when they’d both been particularly lonely_ ) on her left hand in her agitation and the sight of it reminded Kaneki of something ( _both lips on his temples and a battered body in his arms; “ **you won’t be** ” and “ **I won’t leave you alone** ”_). The full extent of his mistakes was finally clear to him ( ** _it was so painfully obvious_** ).  
  
  
Facing Touka fully, Kaneki grasped her hand, running his thumb over the ring as she startled.  


“I’ll never leave you alone again.”

  
He swore, holding her intent gaze. Disbelief still lurked in her expression and pushed him to continue. 

  
“Even if I die, Touka, I’ll come back to you.”

  
Kaneki closed his eyes and let his lips curl in a sad little smile.

  
“We’re family.”

  
He finished, letting his love for her finally spill into his voice after holding it back for months ( _while he had been desperately trying not to stain her_ ). A solid punch slammed into his shoulder and rocked him back in his chair, but didn't cover the sound of a sniffle as Touka spit out,

  
“Dumbass.”

  
And fled the room.   
  


It wasn't full of sunlight anymore and the cafe wasn’t Hide’s kitchen, but damn it all, it still felt like home. 

 

~~~~~~~~

  

Though Hinami and himself had returned to the 20th ward, Banjou and his crew remained in Kaneki’s lodgings. Kaneki may have given up on stopping Kanou with **_death_** , however he had not relinquished his plans to **_ruin him_**.  
  
  
He’d been gathering every available bit of information about the man and had reconstructed Kanou’s story from scratch. He’d traced all his connections quietly, prowling the city each night.  
  
  
Thread by thread, Kaneki was unravelling the doctor’s safety net ( _carefully placed threats, blackmail, interesting news dropped at the right doorstep_ ) before he pushed him over the edge ( _an express package of everything he knew delivered into the hands of the only people who hated Kanou more than he did_ ).  


He was also busy building up his own defences. The last fight had crippled Yomo for a time, Uta had been reduced to mincemeat, and Tsukiyama had bled all over the place.  
  
  
Interestingly, Jiro had figured out a solution to all of this due to her private hobby of playing around with quinque briefcases ( _which, though it was creepy as hell, turned out to be useful_ ). Banjou’s injury and subsequent healing had highlighted the value of certain RC cells in the repair of injuries. She thought that, using material from quinque cases, they could extract and contain some of these cells in a gel medium for emergency use. 

   
Soon after Jiro managed to construct a prototype ( _a well-kept secret_ ), several things happened. Uta delivered Kaneki’s new mask: an exact replica of his first. He’d told Kaneki he had almost made him a new one ( _he’d shown him a sketch and it made his ears ring unpleasantly with the sound of chewing and crawling_ ) but something had changed, and he decided the old one suited him better. The familiar item was like balm to his soul, however Kaneki wasn’t sure Uta was entirely right.  


Recently, he’d obtained Kanou’s exact location and had made preparations for his final moves.  
  
  
Kaneki wasn’t a herbivore to be preyed on or a rabid animal anymore.  
  
  
He was a predator ( _and he’d finally cornered his prey_ ).

 


	18. Prey (Prayer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The CCG discovers the One-Eyed Owl's nest.

For a few weeks everything was quiet ( _no patrols turned up anything alarming, no odd customers had entered the cafe, no one had tried to murder anybody he loved_ ). Kaneki still had difficulty sleeping at night, locked every door he passed through, and experienced surges of negativity and fear, but he could breathe better in Anteiku than he’d been able to anywhere else in ages ( _like he was on a mountain top with the crisp cold settling in his lungs_ ).  
  
  
Still, as he knew it would, everything crumbled beneath his feet ( _he could never have any peace_ ).   
  
  
Yoshimura had called a meeting and requested the presence of all his employees. He’d then requested they all leave, nearly inaudibly, letting them know that the CCG had discovered the cafe and were intending to launch a large-scale raid. Yoshimura stubbornly refused to leave the place and warned that there was little time.  
  


When his heavy-hearted speech ended, many people made to leave the cafe ( _who could blame them? This was insane_ ). Kaneki remained rooted in his seat, staring at Yoshimura intently. He didn’t notice Touka, Nishiki, and Hinami waiting for him in the doorway. He didn’t see the realization dawn over them or the gut-wrenching terror that filled them to the brim.   
  
  
Instead he waited for Yoshimura to look up from his hands and then knelt at the old man’s side. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Kaneki made eye contact with his benefactor.

  
“I told you I’d defend your feelings. I can’t walk away from this.”   
  


He urged him. Yoshimura let out a rattling breath ( _he sounded drained_ ) and grasped Kaneki’s shoulder in return.

  
“Thank you.”  
  


Fast-paced footfalls up the stairs and a slamming door signalled Hinami’s escape to her bedroom. Kaneki released Yoshimura and turned to face the door in surprise as he was assaulted immediately by Touka. 

 

-POV Change- 

 

Taking a swing at Kaneki’s face might not have been the best way to convince him to stay, but Touka was fighting a losing battle against her betrayed feelings ( ** _every single time._** _He did this every single time_ ). Only a handful of weeks ago Kaneki had promised her that he wouldn’t be leaving anymore and yet here they were.   
  
  
The self-punishing idiot didn’t move out of the way of her hands ( _he never did_ ) and so she pulled them back, wrenching her shoulder but not making contact.  
  
  
Frustrated tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes and she swiped at them in irritation until her skin reddened. Finally, Kaneki’s fingertips gently brushed over her knuckles and he tugged her hands away, holding them in his own ( _damn him_ ).   
  
  
Touka looked him over, his lonely tired countenance ( _that no companionship ever seemed to take away_ ), the determined set of his feet ( _telling her she'd failed before she even began_ ), the muscles he had built ( _he surpassed her now_ ), his blackened fingernails ( _evidence of her weakness that she wanted to scrub away_ ), and realized that Kaneki would never be the kind of man who could leave this fight alone.

  
“I told you being soft-hearted would get you killed.”

  
She growled, trying to ignore her revelation and go back to believing he could stay by her side.   


“You’re too weak to pull this off. You couldn’t even eat when you first changed; there’s no way you can stomach killing dozens of CCG investigators.”

  
She was rambling now. Worse, she was lying. He knew it, too ( _he was standing there with that stupid closed-eye smile that he did when he’d made up his mind and didn’t want to hurt you_ ).   
  
  
Why did it have to be Kaneki? Why did he have to outpace her, why did he have to show her that she wasn’t without morals or purpose, why did he have to speak to her quietly and with love and **_make her believe_**? Why did he have to be strong? Why did she have to show him justice and make him believe? 

  
“Do you want to stay?”

  
Kaneki prodded her after her internal contemplation stretched into an uncomfortable silence. He was **_finally asking_** …and it was too late. She couldn’t catch up to where he was anymore, not without resorting to cannibalism and risking insanity. She’d do it if it wasn’t already too late, if the raid wasn’t tomorrow, she'd happily lose her mind. She was strong but he was stronger and he’d let her stay anyway.   
  
  
He’d keep his promises even if she weighed him down and brought death upon his doorstep ( _stupid stupid stupid_ ).  
  


“Are you going on a suicide mission?”

  
She demanded to know in a clipped tone ( _pushing the pain and guilt away into a tiny little box_ ).  


“Probably. Still, I have the salve and there’s some meat left in the fridge. If I manage to protect Manager’s heritage…it shouldn’t be too dangerous. I’ll only do what I can. I don’t want to enter into a last stand and leave you all behind. I swore I’d come back, Touka.”   
  


**_He was trying so fucking hard_**. Giving every little piece of himself away and it felt like Hell that she was taking some of it from him too. It probably killed him to promise to abandon Yoshimura to come back to her.   
  
  
She wanted to be by his side but that was probably going to kill him as well. Just one last time. ** _She could put her faith in him one last time_**.  
  


“When you come back, I won’t trick myself into believing you won’t run off again.”

  
She snorted, putting too much effort into her brusque tone to be believable ( _he was still gripping her hands and would be able to feel the tremors in them_ ).  
  


“Next time though…Kaneki, I’ll be the one defending you. I won’t let you save me anymore.”

  
Touka pulled her left hand back from Kaneki’s and withdrew a pocket knife. She sliced open her palm and hurriedly gestured for Kaneki to do the same. When blood pooled in the crevices there, Touka pressed their hands together and stared Kaneki hard in the face.

  
“Come home to me and I will defend you.”

  
She completed her blood promise ( _she’d only made one other…many years ago_ ) and was surprised at the rush of admiration filling Kaneki’s face. 

  
“Alright, I believe it. ** _You always were my hero, Touka_**.” 

  
Kaneki mumbled, looking incredibly touched and nowhere near as embarrassed as she was. Before she can release his darkly-stained hand and retreat, Kaneki parted his lips again. 

  
“Honestly, I admire you. You taught me so much about this world and what it means to be a part of it. The reason I told you to leave without me before…I want you, more than anyone, to be able to go to university and have a normal life. I want you to live up to your potential, Touka. I wanted to bridge the gap between humans and ghouls, however I often think I’m not cut out for it. I know you are, though. **_You are my hero_**. Every day you spend in human schools with human friends proves how brave you are. You are making change and you’ll keep making change, no matter what happens to me. **_Don’t regret saving yourself, Touka_**. It makes me really happy.”  
  


Touka’s tears were finally escaping her though she tried to keep her face firm. Every one of Kaneki’s words struck a chord within her ( _how did he know what she wanted to do?_ ) and reminded her of her childhood (" _onee-chan, can I be like you when I grow up?"_ ) when she was full of nothing but trust and aspirations for the future.  
  
  
It was strange. Though Kaneki’s speech was lined with the implication of “ ** _if I don’t come back_** ” it calmed the storm in her heart ( _he won’t leave me alone_ ). She nodded at Kaneki and stepped back, releasing his hands ( _the blood made one stick and kept them together for just one moment longer_ ).  
  
  
Touka waited in the doorway of her little sister’s room as Kaneki knocked and entered. He shuffled over to Hinami’s bed, where she was concealing herself beneath a comforter ( _trying not to cry_ ). Wordlessly, Kaneki sat on the edge of her bed.  
  
  
Hinami emerged almost immediately, throwing herself into his lap. She wrapped her arms around Kaneki’s waist and buried her face into his torso. Hinami took deep breaths and closed her eyes, crowding in even closer ( _ending up completely in his lap_ ). Kaneki simply returned her embrace, letting his lashes rest against his cheeks as he too, inhaled slowly ( _less desperately but just as focused as Hinami_ ).  
  


Touka had never seen this ritual before, but Hinami had told her about it. Whenever Kaneki had left the apartment, he’d allow her to memorize his scent, his clothes, his face, and his voice anew so she wouldn’t forget him. After a nasty scare ( _an investigator had recognized Hinami…and soon lost the trail due to a false anonymous tip_ ) Kaneki had begun to reciprocate.   
  
  
Seeing it and hearing about it were two completely different stories, though. She felt like she was witnessing something deeply personal and shifted uncomfortably as a flash of shame passed through her. When Hinami meekly whispered,

  
“ ** _I love you_**.” 

  
And Kaneki answered her in kind, the shame burned hotly under her skin. Touka wished she could express herself so openly and stop troubling ever- Kaneki had one eye cracked open and was scrutinizing her. As if he could read her thoughts, Kaneki shook his head and smiled, mouthing,

  
“ ** _I_ _ **l** ove you._**”

  
At her as well and then burying his face into Hinami’s hair. Touka turned away from the sweet scene and leaned her forehead against the wall. After everything was over, she’d say it back ( _he’ll come back to Anteiku. I know he_ _will_ ).

 

-POV Change-

 

On his way out of the cafe and back to his old apartment ( _to tie loose ends and to prepare_ ), Kaneki nearly ran straight into Yomo ( _who was lurking just around the corner_ ). Snakelike, the older man reached out and squeezed his shoulder quickly ( _he clearly thought Kaneki would run away_ ). With that, Kaneki knew Yomo wouldn’t be fighting either. 

  
“I’ll take everyone to safety. Don’t worry.”

  
Yomo reassured him ( _he hadn’t even realized that he was shaking_ ). Kaneki grinned, strained and grateful, tipping his chin at him. He made to leave, thinking Yomo was finished. Yomo suddenly cut off his path however, squaring his shoulders. With an iron expression, Yomo said,

  
“We’ll be waiting for you in the 6th ward. I’ll probably open up another cafe. You can drop by anytime…the door will always be open.”

  
His tone was thick with implications ( _he’ll never stop waiting, will he?_ ) though his phrasing wasn’t the clearest. Kaneki’s stomach flipped as nostalgia ( _a dull ache_ ) hit him and he thought of his mother patiently waiting at his elementary school’s gates. He squeezed Yomo’s shoulder in return to show he understood.  
  
  
Yomo gruffly stepped out of his way, seemingly satisfied with his acceptance, only to reveal Nishiki standing behind the cafe’s counter and staring pointedly at him. Kaneki wanted to be exasperated ( _time was running short_ ) but he had a nagging feeling that he wouldn’t be seeing them all for awhile ( _which seemed ominous, but he wouldn’t examine that too closely_ ) and so he waited for Nishiki to speak.   
  
  
Nishiki’s face puckered as if the words tasted bad ( _like shit, in his own words_ ), however he managed to spit out,

  
“Don’t die. It’ll make me look weak.”

  
In a whole-hearted attempt at concern ( _coming from Nishiki_ ). Seeing more words rise in Nishiki’s throat ( _it looked like he was going to puke_ ), Kaneki refrained from answering his previous statement. Nishiki shoved his uniform under the counter and grumbled,

  
“I won’t be waiting for you, but this cafe has the only good coffee around. I might go to the new one. Sometimes.”  
  


He then brushed past Kaneki and out the door in a rush, leaving him with the taste of laughter in his mouth ( _he wished it would last long enough to cover the flavour of blood_ ). 

   
The apartment was bustling with activity when Kaneki stepped through the entryway. Banjou, Ichimi, Sante, and Jiro were all running in circles, gathering bags, and screaming obscenities at one another ( _Kaneki patted himself on the back for moving Hinami back in with more wholesome company_ ). Glancing at the pile of salve jars on the kitchen table ( _balanced precariously at the edge_ ) and the barren state of the rest of the place, Kaneki figured news of the Anteiku raid had even reached the 4th ward ( _how curious_ ).  


“Kaneki-san!” 

  
Ichimi cried out ( _finally noticing him_ ) and rushed towards him ( _tripping over one of the bags…the shattering sound inside told Kaneki his plates were all ruined. He hoped he'd be alive later to be angry about that_ ).

  
“Uta-san came here and warned us that there was going to be a CCG attack on the cafe! We’re here to help!”

  
The others lined up behind Jiro, saluting Kaneki all together like soldiers. For all their ridiculous antics, Kaneki could see the abject terror in their eyes. Sighing, Kaneki sank down to the floor and sat cross-legged, facing his friends with steely resolve. 

  
“I’ll give you all the same option I gave Touka. I have no right to tell you not to fight. You can stay if you want to. I’ll try my best to keep us all safe.” 

  
He intoned, shifting his gaze from person to person. Sante looked surprised at the mention of Touka ( _he also admired her deeply_ ) and immediately bombarded him with questions.

  
“Is Touka-chan alright? Is she going to fight with us? Where is she now?” 

  
Kaneki dragged a hand through his hair, panic fluttering in his chest at the memory of his earlier conversations ( _it would be ok. He would come back_ ). 

  
“Touka is going with Yomo to the 6th ward. For safety.”

  
He uttered. His words fell like stones into a pond, ripples of anxiety spreading through the room. Kaneki could see that the gang was biting their lips and restraining themselves from asking to come now that they knew even Touka would be fleeing. The reality of the situation ( _this time they couldn’t help him_ ) was hitting them hard, though leaving him alone made them antsy as well ( _especially Banjou_ ).  
  
  
The trio eventually turned to face Banjou as if asking him to pass the final verdict. White in the face and looking terribly ashamed, Banjou nodded his head and whimpered,

  
“We’ll go. We’ll make sure everyone makes it out of the 20th ward.”  


Before Banjou could begin beating himself up, Kaneki interjected,

  
“I’m happy you said that. I need some important documents to make their way to the correct authorities. There’s no one else I trust with them as much as I trust you four.”

  
Sante and Ichimi seemed relieved to know they were still of use, however Banjou and Jiro were still wrestling with guilt. 

  
“Banjou,”

  
Kaneki stood and patted the taller man on the forearm ( _he couldn’t reach his head_ ),  
  


“You haven’t betrayed me. I’ve survived this long because I had an excellent shield.”

  
Banjou sniffled a little but managed a watery smile. Kaneki shifted his line of sight onto Jiro next.

  
“I’m not scared of dying because I have the salve, Jiro. I should be alright.”

  
He comforted her, brushing his left hand against his chin awkwardly before holding it out for a fist-bump. She chortled wetly ( _she was still upset_ ) and tapped her knuckles against his ( _the symbol of a resolved disagreement in their house_ ). Quickly, Jiro began rounding up the others and ushering them out of the house. She hesitated in the doorway, bags weighing down her arms and back as she glanced back at Kaneki. 

  
“Keep my shield safe, won’t you?” 

  
He requested, tone rich with affection even though he sounded worn. Jiro nodded jerkily and let go of the door. It clicked shut and Kaneki was finally alone with his mistakes.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Icy air whipped around his body as Kaneki kept lookout for the first signs of attack from the top of a nearby skyscraper. He sat at the very edge of the building, dangling his legs over the edge ( _would falling hurt his ghoul body? Could he catch himself?_ ). The chilly air entered his nose and under the scent of ozone he detected something familiar.  
  
  
A chagrined smile crossed his lips as Kaneki realized he had failed to dissuade Tsukiyama from attempting to stop him. He titled his head back and watched his sword stumble towards him upside-down. Though he was tiring of his death speeches ( _they embarrassed and exhausted him_ ), Kaneki feared “things left unsaid” far too greatly to stop now. Therefore, when Tsukiyama begged him not to go and threatened to kill him, Kaneki told him everything he thought about him.   
  


“I know you won’t kill me, Tsukiyama. I figured out you weren’t completely untrustworthy when you passed up an opportunity to eat me. Then I began to enjoy your company and taste in literature. I think…I’d call us friends. Because of that, I want to say something. Don’t call yourself the dagger under my pillow. I have no need to hide you away, Tsukiyama. You are my sword. I am proud to have you by my side.”

  
After he was done speaking, Tsukiyama just stared at him, stupefied. Kaneki flushed hotly, horribly flustered ( _had Tsukiyama’s flare for the dramatic finally spread to him? Maybe he shouldn’t have called them friends_ ).

  
“I’m sorry about the run-on speech, but I just wanted you to know that I’m not abandoning you or anything. I’m sorry that I’m leaving again. I know that it’s foolish and that I’m hurting everyone's feelings but I can’t look away form this. Please, Tsukiyama, I know you care about Hinami. Take care of her while I’m gone, ok? Provide for her. **_Please_**.”  
  


He blurted, slapping a hand over his burning cheeks. Tsukiyama’s lack of a reaction was making him wonder if he had said something incredibly lame or if he’d read him wrong all this time and he was going to try to eat him again. The silence stretched on until it was finally broken by the sound of a flare-gun firing.  
  
  
Kaneki’s spine went rigid ( _it was time_ ). He peered over the lip of the building down at the road below and saw several inconspicuous black vans lining up in a row several streets from the cafe. Terror and doubt rolled through his stomach and made him feel ill as he glanced back at Tsukiyama’s motionless form.  
  
  
Making up his mind, Kaneki jumped ( _even though I don’t deserve to be rescued…for their sakes…I hope Hide and Amon have something up their sleeves for us both. I can’t keep an eye on them and myself down there. Please, God, someone…let everybody survive this_ ). 

 

~~~~~~~~  


 

“Do you think onii-chan will be alright?”

  
“I’m sure Kaneki will come back to us. He owes me that.”

  
“…Ken has gotten a lot stronger, Hinami-chan. He’ll make it.” 

  
“Kaneki-san, don’t die.” 

  
“Ichimi, you should worry about us first. Or Banjou. He looks like he’ll drop dead any second.”

  
“Shut up. Sante! I-I-I’m fine! We’ll protect everyone.”

  
“It’s like I’m not even here…”

  
“I didn’t mean any offence, Yomo-san!” 

  
“Everybody stop talking. Let’s move.”

  
_Kaneki… **please come home.**_

 

~~~~~~~~

 

A skyscraper situated near the cafe was the perfect vantage point for perfecting Hide’s plans. He was wired as hell tonight and needed some space from the battle to make sure he covered all his bases ( _there wouldn’t be any mistakes. Not this time. Not ever again_ ). He’d been hoping to be alone with the wind and city lights ( _the_   _cold thin air in his lungs felt so clean. It made him feel like he was on a mountain top_ ), however he found something even better waiting for him.  
  


Hide’s heart raced and new ideas swirled through his head, locking into place like the last few pieces of an intensely frustrating puzzle. The purple-haired bastard who had mocked him so insistently during his last failure was lying face-down on the concrete before him, tears streaking down his face. He had the shell-shocked look of somebody who had been told the meaning of life ( _or someone who had lost their reason to live…fancy that_ ).  
  
  
From his clothes to his attitude, the guy had screamed “rich” at Hide before, and rich was exactly what he needed right now. Though the guy appeared to be in rough shape at the moment, Hide could use that to his advantage.   


“Hey.”

  
He nudged the prone figure with the toe of his boot. No acknowledgement flickered through the man’s eyes ( _even when a nudge became a 'light' kick_ ).  


“Kaneki needs your help. You want Kaneki to live, right?”

  
He questioned. That got a reaction out of the ghoul, who sat upright abruptly ( _still not all there_ ). 

  
“Arrange for transportation to be available at the back of this building. I don’t care how you do it, but make them wait here no matter what. Tell them that anyone who gets in and immediately asks for their name is their client and that they will take them anywhere they want to go.” 

  
Hide recited, his plan solidifying before his very eyes as the man nodded ( _ah, he didn’t even need the vantage point anymore_ ). Resisting the urge to make a snide comment about “best friends” to the broken person at his feet, Hide practically skipped over to the metal doors that led back into the building and to the ground. As the door was shutting, he heard the distinct sound of a number being dialled.

  
“Have fun with your nervous breakdown.”

  
Hide whispered, then broke into a sprint down the stairs ( _he had a **best friend** to rescue_ ).

 


	19. Poach (Spirit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Poach: To trespass in order to steal animals or to hunt_. Everybody wants a piece of Kaneki Ken, however the world of ghouls is give and take.
> 
> WARNING: Gore is featured pretty heavily in this chapter.

_This must be Hell_ was the only thought coursing through Kaneki’s mind as he bobbed and wove through dozens of different clashes. The CCG and the combined forces of the Black Dog and Demon Ape crashed into each other like waves onto the coast. They were throwing themselves into their respective fights with an unmatched single-minded fury that allowed him to slip by like a fish.  
  
  
Still, every few meters or so, it seemed someone would manage to wrap their hands around some part of Kaneki and drag him back under the tide. Fighting without killing was…taxing. Kaneki’s suit was heavily stained with his own blood ( _he blessed Tsukiyama for choosing black as the main colou_ r) but his condition had not worsened yet.  
  


Amongst the screaming, gunshots, and smoke however, Kaneki had smelt one of the generals of Aogiri Tree, an odour that warned him that flagging strength would ultimately kill him. He had long-since guessed that Eto would come for her father but had hoped she wouldn't ( _she was making things worse intentionally, it seemed_ ). He could only pray his attempts to keep the both of them alive wouldn’t be interpreted as an attack ( _he had quite the history with their organization_ ).  
  
  
A bullet pierced his ankle and Kaneki stumbled, sighing heavily to himself before punching out a man to his right and ignoring the itch of healing skin. The scent of the general ( _Tatara_ ) was thickening. He had to go.

 

~~~~~~~~

  

En route to the sewers ( _the only way out of the ward at this point_ ), Kaneki found himself in a jam. He hadn’t been able to let Irimi take on an army alone and had paid for it. Kaneki had torn her from the clutches of a crazed inspector ( _who had quite the disturbing look about him, missing his lips and all_ ) and pounded his men into the pavement. Every swing he had taken had rattled something in his brain ( _Rize’s sultry tone buzzing just beneath the surface_ ) and it was only getting worse ( _he'd never be free of this_ ).  
  
  
Though he had made promises, Kaneki wasn’t willing to exit the arena yet ( _if he started hallucinating, he’d go_ ). To assuage the guilt that washed over him ( _don’t let her control you_ ) he dashed up the fire escape of an old brick building and out of sight.   
  
  
Reclining with a sigh, Kaneki devoured the last of the meat he'd packed ( _he’d given too much away_ ) and was abruptly brought back to a state of alarm by a call of,

  
“Hey. You.” 

  
From beneath his feet. Kaneki took a deep breath in preparation to launch himself at his would-be assailant and was surprised at his familiarity ( _he really shouldn't have been though…this alley had hit him with a sense of deja vu_ ). He draped his arms over the rusted railing of the fire escape and pensively stared down at his friend. 

  
“Amon.” 

  
He returned, meeting the aforementioned man’s flinty gaze. The hard staring continued for awhile in silence before Amon seemed to find whatever he was looking for in Kaneki’s expression ( _half-concealed as it was_ ) and let his face relax. He smiled, warm and reminiscent, as he called out to Kaneki,  


“We’ve met here before.” 

  
( _Yep, it was definitely this alley_ ) Kaneki felt a grin rising to the surface ( _really, self? You’re in the middle of a war zone_ ) and was unable to resist letting a playful

  
“Come here often?”

  
Escape his lips. Amon’s eyes widened and his teeth flashed while he barked out a guffaw, quickly reining it in ( _not like anyone would hear him over the din_ ).  
  


“I was hoping our next meeting here would be…more pleasant than the last.”   
  


Amon was saying as Kaneki scaled his way down the fire escape. His feet brushed the ground and he looked up on time to catch the contrite expression flitting across Amon’s face. The kicked-puppy look was doing a number on his heart and Kaneki really _really_ couldn’t afford to go into cardiac arrest right now.   
  
  
Therefore, instead of hanging around, Kaneki quickly got down to business ( _he’d been expecting him anyway_ ). 

  
“I can’t make this up to you: all the officers who will die tonight and all the blood in the streets. But…I was thinking about what you said ( _always thinking about it, really_ ). I hope that my friends can, uh, help your friends.” 

  
He recited ( _stumbling and pausing and generally screwing up_ ) while gesturing vaguely to a jar clenched in his fist. Amon, of course, looked completely lost ( _nice going Kaneki, you suck at this_ ).  
  


“It can heal wounds. It’s uhm…it’s RC cells. It won’t turn anyone into a ghoul or stitch limbs back on or anything. I just…I hope you don’t die.” 

   
Kaneki rambled and thrust the jar into Amon’s grasp. He spun on his heel and was near the edge of the alleyway when Amon’s hand snapped over his wrist. Grinding to a halt, Kaneki looked back into the investigator’s suddenly wild eyes.

  
“You aren’t going on a suicide mission are you? You didn’t look like…it didn’t seem…I thought…you still owe me some answers. My formal introduction. **_Please give me time_**.”  
 

That last part came out raw and strained and Kaneki’s stomach tied itself up in knots ( _everybody really thought he was going to die, didn’t they?_ ). Awkward and unsure about what he should say ( _he got the impression that giving Amon a death speech would…end poorly_ ), Kaneki cleared his throat and muttered,

  
“What is your name? Your whole name, I mean.” 

  
Amon’s entire frame tensed terribly, however he still gave a hoarse reply of, 

  
“Amon Koutarou.”

  
Kaneki devoted the name to memory and squeezed Amon’s wrist.

  
“I am Kaneki Ken.”

  
He responded, easing his grip while he continued,

  
“That’s one question down. We’ll discuss the rest later.” 

  
The desperation bled out of Amon’s fingers and he released Kaneki’s wrist ( _though he could still feel the press of his nails sinking into his skin_ ). Darting to the mouth of the alley, Kaneki felt a fresh swell of panic leaden his steps. Fighting to keep the vulnerability from his face, Kaneki turned back to the investigator he was so horribly entangled with one last time. 

  
“ ** _Don’t die, Koutarou_**. I won’t forgive you.”

 

~~~~~~~~

  

The blossoms surrounding his prone body were the kind of crimson Kaneki had only ever been able to make by painting streaks of red one on top of the next until they coagulated like rust. Each brush stroke ( _each slash_ ) deepend ( _the pool on the floor_ ) the colour and made the air heavy with the scent of paint ( _carnage_ ).  
  
  
The lycrosis grows from his palms like a spider, it climbs out of his veins and grows higher, shading the corpse blooms and shrivelling their limbs.  
This field must be tended with care, it grew so nicely when the farmer was there, plucking the weeds and seeding his skull.  
It made him think of a time he was more than fertilizer for the soil.  


_  
..._

 

_ **That which blossoms** _

**_falls, the way of all flesh_ **

**_in this world of flowers_** _._

 

The world had no colour or noise, but Kaneki took no notice of it. There was a child playing in a sandbox before him and in the low light it called to him. He approached ( _the crunching of leaves and twigs snapping like bones followed him_ ) and knelt in the sand to examine the castles he’d built. The sun was setting ( _he believed_   _it would never stop_ ) and Kaneki strongly felt he should send him home. The child turned to him with wide watery grey eyes and gestured to the sand. 

  
“Help me finish?”

  
He ask breathily, full of hope and wonder. **_H_** ** _e was so_ _lonely_** ( _how do you know?_ ). Kaneki got straight to work ( _he couldn't refuse_ ) and tried to emulate the straight line of identical palaces before him.  
  
  
Hours passed and everything he built crumbled in his hands.

  
“The sand is too dry.”

  
The child spoke up eventually. Eying the area consideringly, Kaneki could not make out any water sources. He shrugged and picked up the knife at his feet ( _a dangerous thing for a sandbox_ ). Methodically, he slit his wrist. His blood wet the sand and he began to build again.  
  
  
The next castle remained in one piece, however it did not match the others ( _a dark red monolith that didn’t reflect the light like it should. **It wasn’t the** _**_same_** ). Frowning, Kaneki began to layer golden grains over the blackening ones to no avail.  
  
  
A flicker of **_something_** overtook him and he slashed at the sculpture with his hands ( _it crumbled to dust and the child looked disappointed_ ).

  
“Why didn’t you go get water from _____’s house?”

  
The boy asked and tilted his head in confusion. Realizing his mistake, Kaneki tried to stand and walk to his friend’s ( _it was only two doors down_ ). He could not, however, tear his eyes away from the wet red sand at his feet.  
  
  
He couldn’t leave it there. It was **_polluting everything_**. Even with water that sand would still be red, wouldn’t it?  
  
  
Kaneki didn’t want his friend to know what he had ruined.

  
“Ken?” 

  
The black-haired kid was calling out to him. Kaneki turned and looked at the boy, who was reaching forward to scoop up the remains of what he had built. Anxiety shook Kaneki as he tried to grab his arm ( _it seemed he was moving impossibly slow_ ).  
  
  
When the child’s hands plunged into the sand, the red crept up his arms and he aged, smiling beatifically the entire time. The sand was golden again and the man ( _himself_ ) hummed tunelessly as he built another castle. It tilted precariously to the right and Kaneki lunged to support it.  
  
  
The sand weighed as much as a house and Kaneki’s arms shook under the strain ( ** _he had to be strong_** ). He shoved with everything he had and the castle finally sat upright ( _as it should_ ).

  
“I see. You couldn’t do it alone.”

  
His mirror-image ( _his past_ ) whispered thoughtfully.

  
“Are you happy here?”

  
Kaneki asked him, gesturing broadly to the unnaturally silent park. 

  
“Are you?” 

  
His 19-year-old self queried. 

  
“Yes.”

  
They mumbled simultaneously, hands rising to brush against their chin (“ _Kaneki, I swear you are the worst liar I’ve ever met. If you didn’t want to hang out with them, you could’ve just said so. No need to do the chin-touch, idiooooot_ ”).  
  
  
A wretched sob heaved out of Kaneki’s chest and splintered in his throat. The other Kaneki shuffled forward and wrapped his arms around him, rubbing soothing circles in his back in the dying light of the setting sun.

  
“We built it together.”

  
“Yes.”

  
“Are you satisfied?”

  
“No.”

  
“Then, Ken… let’s rest a bit.”

 

-POV Change- 

 

Though it had only been for a heartbeat, Arima had seen something resplendent in this corpse-slicked sewer. The ghoul ( ** _Kaneki Ken_** ) had muttered about a garden in winter ( _classical poetry_ )…and flowers. Armia had seen it in the past ( _when he was younger and the bodies looked like something **more**_ ) and was surprised to hear the scenery described so aptly. It gave him pause as his stare bored into the empty eye sockets of the ghoul at his feet.  
  


Was he dead? He seemed lovely enough to be.   
  
  
Still, Arima was nothing if not thorough. He had to be sure.  
  
  
His phone was ringing though, and his superiors were deeply annoyed by his apathy towards their calls. Arima flipped it open and listened disinterestedly to the flurry of noise and screaming about the One-Eyed Owl’s landing. He hung up when the volume rose to a painful pitch and fixed his view on the slight stirring in the ghoul’s chest.  
  
  
A stifled sound came from the lip of one of the pipes leading into the room ( _the timing of that call…interesting_ ). Armia quirked an eyebrow at it and then silently ghosted out of the room ( _duty calls_ ).

 

-POV Change-

  
(“ _Don’t die, Koutarou. I won’t forgive you_ ”) Amon groaned as Kaneki’s words repeated on loop in his mind and he hefted his weapon again and again, struggling to turn away the Aogiri general’s strikes. He was beginning to think he wouldn’t be able to keep that promise, outclassed as he was.   
  
  
The Arata armour clinging to his skin was getting uncomfortably tight and he was concerned that it would start trying to consume him soon. His knees buckled under a glancing blow and the general was clearly smirking under his crimson half-mask.  
  
  
Amon scrabbled to his feet and was readying himself to continue defending when Seidou flew out from behind him, weapon drawn. His face was streaked with salt and terror radiated off him in waves. Seidou's eyes were hard with firey resolve however, and his grip on his quinque was firm.

  
“I can’t stand doing nothing anymore!”

  
He wailed out, stepping closer to the ghoul. Seidou thrust his quinque forward in a wide unguarded strike and Amon lunged outwards with his own to cover his partner’s exposed flank. The cutting edge of the ghoul’s kagune slid straight up Amon’s weapon, away from Seidou’s chest and directly into his shoulder, severing it at the joint.  
  
  
His friend fell to his knees screaming; Amon wondered if God had abandoned him after all. 

 

-POV Change-

  

While rifling through his half-dead best friend’s pockets would be considered rude on any other occasion, Hide was 99% sure he would require their contents ( _he may have bugged Amon’s suit and may have eavesdropped a little_ ). He pulled the plastic jar of salve free from the clever compressed pockets lining the ribs of the suit and examined it appreciatively. It had healing capabilities…but not enough.  
  
  
Hide bit back a growl ( _this was going to hurt_ ) as he set the jar aside and flicked a butterfly knife out of his boot. He set the edge of the blade against the bare skin of his arm.  
  
  
This was something that he owed.  
  
  
**_A pound of flesh._**  
  
  
He screamed. 

 

-POV Change-

 

Amon knew several of his bones were being fractured while Tatara’s kagune smacked down onto his back. He couldn’t bring himself to care too deeply though as he smeared the ghoul-salve all over the stump of Seidou’s arm ( _“won’t bring back severed limbs”_ ). The flesh was knitting back together slowly but surely (t _hat latest crunch was his rib_ ).   
  
  
He wanted to make it out of this alive.   
  
  
Him and Nagachika…they wouldn’t fail this time, **_God or no God_**  ( _screw destiny_ ).

  

-POV Change- 

  
Hands slippery with blood, Hide shoveled his own skin, sinew, and muscle into Kaneki’s mouth. Soon everything became drenched with blinding soaking pain-pleasure because he was succeeding and Kaneki was damn well chewing a hole into his shoulder.   
  
  
The blood loss was getting to him already and darkness fluttered at the corners of Hide’s vision. His eyebrows furrowed ( _Kaneki would be mad if he ate him to death. He wasn’t supposed to let that happen_ ) and he reached into the depths of his memories to pull forward all the books he had read about suggestion.  
  


“One piece of meat is tougher than it should be. Is it gristle? Is it bone?”

  
He muttered, stroking Kaneki’s hair and pressing his left hand against his face. 

  
“The texture isn’t quite right. It tastes putrid. Familiar.” 

  
Kaneki’s devouring pace began to slow. 

  
“Is it possible you’ve bitten your tongue? Is it the taste of ghoul that's so familiar?”

  
His friend pulled back for a moment, befuddlement flowing over his sticky face. With his functional hand, Hide wiped Kaneki’s mouth, ignoring the teeth that snapped at his fingers. He continued to speak in a slow relaxed tone as he unscrewed the jar of salve and smeared it over his wounded flesh ( _he couldn't even feel it anymore_ ). 

  
“That's a good boy. If you can’t eat your food properly, Ken, you should let me cut it for you.” 

  
He sliced his leg, the pain having receded someplace within the confines of the dark places in his mind. Methodically, he passed the meat ( _that’s all it was. Meat_ ) to Kaneki and began smearing salve over his thigh. As an afterthought, he added another dollop to his gaping arm wound. 

  
“Chew slowly. You don’t want to bite youself again, do you?”

  
Kaneki ignored him and Hide frowned ( _he was eating too quickly for Hide to keep up_ ).  


“That’s why you had to stop last time, remember? That’s why you pulled back. Aren’t you hungry? Don’t pull back again. Let my voice guide you.”  


Strips of flesh lay scattered everywhere and Hide was positive he was covered in gore. It was oddly fascinating to watch his flesh weave itself back into place time and again. The jar at his side was nearly empty but he kept cutting, feeling detached from the process ( _it almost felt like filing for the CCG. Repetitive_ ).   
  
  
He freed another chunk from his thoroughly abused and spasming ( _made it hard to carve straight lines_ ) right arm and shifted to place it into Kaneki’s open mouth. His friend chewed and swallowed, then his eyes abruptly came into focus ( _finally_ ). 

  
“H…Hide?”

  
He stuttered. An immense blast of joy blew away all of Hide’s distance from the scenario as he watched the way Kaneki’s torn tongue sweep over his reddened teeth in that familiar oh-no-this-is-awkward motion he’d seen Kaneki do a million times over. 

  
“I…I’m…Hide, I...  ** _ate_** you?”

  
Hide jammed the last of the salve into his arm ( _fingers sinking in a bit deeper than intended. This time it hurt like a bitch_ ) and then threw them both around his friend. 

  
“Who cares about that? Come on, Kaneki. Let’s go home.”

   
Kaneki eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped into Hide's torso ( _of course_ ).

  

~~~~~~~~

 

Hide’s arms burned like they’d been doused in acid as he dragged Kaneki’s dead-weight passed-out self to the surface of the sewers. He was busy forcing the grating away ( _he was so happy he’d remembered to loosen this exit before he’d macerated his limbs_ ) when Kaneki stirred and then snapped upright. The grey in his eyes dominated as his pupils constricted into pinpricks and his head whipped in Hide’s direction.  
  
  
Or not.  
  
  
Kaneki tossed the grating into the distance ( _Hide was tempted to grumble about his own lack of strength_ ) and moved in a flurry of blood-spattered limbs to the centre of a near-empty street ( _was he after something?_ ).  
 

The street was "near-empty" because his partner in crime ( _or at least, he thought it was Koutarou. It was hard to tell past the gross quinque armour_ ) was kneeling over Seidou while an Aogiri general ( _Tatara, according to his files_ ) lightly buffeted his armour and… ** _Balls_**. He was watching Koutarou work and BALLS BALLS BALLS KANEKI WAS GOING OVER THERE.  
  
  
Hide rushed after his friend who was currently chittering ( _that couldn’t be good_ ) and crawling up the wall of a building lining the street in an insect-like fashion ( _that was quite striking, but now wasn’t the time_ ). Unable to stop Kaneki ( _he wasn’t Spiderman_ ), Hide hung back and tried to formulate a plan as the half-kakuja descended upon Tatara like…like he was fucking possessed. If Kaneki had had a mission before this moment, it was clearly being abandoned in the wake of sheer violence.  


The startled ghoul had backed off and tried to gain ground on his friend, however Koutarou had stood, snarled, and had started to try to rip the man to pieces as well. Between the two of them, the ghoul seemed to be faring poorly.   
  
  
Hide watched in morbid fascination as Kaneki hooked the edge of one of his rinkaku under the ghoul’s mask and…just kindof…popped his head off ( _cool...gross, but cool_ ). Then, in the blood and the mud and the light drizzle ( _when had it started to rain?_ ), the screaming around them became muffled and distant to Hide’s ears as Kaneki calmed and faced him ( _even Koutarou kindof…disappeared in his eyes_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki’s face was paper white and he looked absolutely petrified.

  
“ ** _Please, don’t be scare_ _d_**.” 

  
They both whispered, in the same cracking, throaty voice.  
  
  
Kaneki curled in on himself and visibly shivered as the rain rinsed the gore from his body. The image struck Hide like lightning. The colour ran from Kaneki’s hair and returned it to the snow white colour he was so unaccustomed to and the suit bled out monochrome. Everything was in shades of black and white ( _of course Kaneki_ ** _would_** _become a walking metaphor_ ), the crimson of open flesh forgotten, and the person who meant more to him than his own survival, than his family, his friends, his comfort, thought that he would be **_afraid of him_**. Even after he’d nearly bled himself dry and fed Kaneki pieces of his own body, this **_idiot_** thought he would turn away.  
  


Fond exasperation blended with his bone-deep concern as Hide trudged through the battlefield that lay at his feet towards the wounded animal Kaneki had become. Hide fell to his hands and knees beside him and bumped their foreheads together. When Kaneki lifted his head at last, Hide got the distinct impression he wasn't all there, wasn’t really seeing him ( _his gaze was foggy and unfocused_ ). Brushing Kaneki’s cheek gently with one hand and sighing in contentment, Hide whispered. 

  
“Rest now.” 

-POV Change-

 

Though their mission was almost complete, Amon felt doubts rattling around in his core as he bore witness to how…dedicated Nagachika and Kaneki could both be ( _he felt a little ill about the fleeting moment of awe he had experienced when the half-ghoul had shorn the general’s head from his shoulders. He felt even sicker at the sight of the gore coating Nagachika’s sleeves and the raw, new skin lining his exposed limbs_ ).   
  
  
Nagachika was still staring at Kaneki like nothing else existed and they weren’t standing in the **_midst of a massacre_** and Amon had long since finished tending to Seidou’s amputated arm.  
  
  
He wanted to tell Nagachika that they needed to go, that something had to give, that they had to finish whatever the Hell Nagachika’s plan was and GO, but anxiety was squeezing his throat closed and suffocating him ( _was this the right thing to do? Could he flee with Kaneki? Could he trust Nagachika? Would Seidou be ok?_ ).  
  


His gaze burned a hole in the back of Nagachika’s head as the young man hauled Kaneki to his feet and into his arms, grunting with effort. When he faced Amon his eyes were too bright and he seemed feverish ( _pink splotches were blooming on his face and UGH he was an idiot, Nagachika was sitting in the rain and his body was probably collapsing as Amon watched_ ).  
  
  
He stood, unsticking his trousers from the thick layer of mud and ash he had sunk into, and quickly moved to take Kaneki from Nagachika’s shaking hold. The weight in his arms did wonders towards settling his nerves ( _he had the sneaking suspicion Nagachika’s behaviour had been threatening to him **in more than one way**_ ) and he occupied himself with tracing the lines of Kaneki’s face ( _his mask had disappeared at some point and he idly wondered if he should find it)_.  
  


Soon he discovered he had no right to judge Nagachika’s obsessive level of reverence as he had to be jolted back to reality by the damp slap of tissue hitting the ground beside him. His eyes flickered to the right and he stifled a wretch at seeing Nagachika taking a knife to his arm for what must be the second time, freeing a layer of fat and muscle unflinchingly before tossing it some ways away.   
  
  
He swallowed repeatedly, trying to regain some control of his frozen body as his gaze remained glued to the wound Nagachika was smearing with clear gel ( _did he…take it off of Seidou’s unconscious body?_ ).  
  
  
Amon's heart jumpstarted and he flinched when Nagachika turned the blade on him.

  
“We have to make it look like we died, so the cut is going to be messy.”  
  


Nagachika stated flatly, gesturing at the ragged edges of the healing hole in his flesh ( _a flicker of satisfaction showing in the arch of his eyebrows and the set of his spine_ ). 

  
“That’s the plan. We’ve got to disappear for awhile, Koutarou. Don’t be a baby about this - your arm will heal just fine.” 

  
Amon choked at how evenly Nagachika was discussing this, however, skewed as his logic was( _he was seriously disturbed by his unwavering determination and willingness to destroy everything other than Kaneki_ ), he didn’t disagree with him.  
  
  
God, this was all so wrong, but nothing was black and white anymore and his sense of morality was turning out all kinds of grey.  
  
  
He shifted his grip on the person sleeping in his arms and extended his arm towards Nagachika’s knife.  
  
  
**_He left a piece of himself on the battlefield._** Literally and metaphorically ( _the guilt was crushing, but nothing new_ ). For realism, he’d taken apart the quinque that had been willed to him ( _Mado wouldn’t understand, so he didn’t bother to apologize_ ) and had left it scattered on the ground ( _Nagachika had embedded some of it in the general’s corpse with an odd sheen in his eyes_ ).   
  
  
They were going to leave the ward and head to an apartment Nagachika owned under a false name ( _he didn't ask how he'd afforded it_ ) by taking a ride from someone Amon strongly suspected was a ghoul.  
  
  
It was strange and unsettling, though he wasn’t nervous anymore. He didn’t trust his partner as a person, **_not at all_** , but if there was one thing he trusted this crazy bastard with, it was Kaneki Ken.

 

~~~~~~~~

  
  
A rumbling sound surrounded Kaneki when he woke and in his disorientation he wondered if some manner of beast had come to kill him at last. Then he smelt Hide ( _summer wildflowers, warmth, andthe sharp scent of almonds_ ), Amon ( _cotton, rainstorms, and the dry spice of lavender…his favourite_ ), leather, and a stranger. He was in a car. Blearily, he tried to bring the tinted windows into his line of sight, but instead stared himself in the face ( _his dark-haired duplicate_ ). He glared at his smile ( _closed eyes, closed mouth, that pitiful liar’s grin_ ).

  
“Don’t make that face. We’ve ruined their lives.” 

  
He rasped ( _he didn’t know how he did though, since no sound left his throat_ ). His other self shook his head disapprovingly, his voice clear as a bell when he responded, 

  
“They chose this. **_They chose us_**.” 

  
Kaneki growled unhappily, muttering, 

  
“They’re good people. They couldn’t leave me alone.” 

  
With unneeded force. The reflection flushed at the intimidation but refused to recant its statement. 

  
“We’re twisted.” 

  
Kaneki insisted. The reflection seemed to agree with that if the darkening of his eyes was anything to go by. 

  
“We are. **_Humans are born ugly, Ken_**.” 

  
As he opened his mouth to deny his humanity, the speaker cut him off. 

  
“I am human and **_we are the same_**. You can’t change that, just as you can’t change **_this_** anymore. We aren’t brave at all, Ken. We aren’t strong or righteous. We’re just in pain.” 

  
He felt it then, the abyss inside of himself, empty and hungry and waiting for all of him to fall in. He gasped sharply and a soothing hand fell upon his shoulder. That hand felt like torture, warming his icy skin and touching his agony ( _like he was a pile of glass and that hand was just dragging through him, wounding them both_ ). He desperately tried to pull away, but his reflection pressed down on his other shoulder. 

  
“We are in pain. We don’t want to be alone anymore.”

  
It smiled at him though its grip was bruising. Its fingers clenched and Kaneki saw himself drifting away into smoke. 

  
“ ** _Cherish their feelings_**. It’s their choice.”

   
He _(it_ ) ( ** _they_** ) murmured, crumbling away. He seized its hand and held on tight, nodding slowly as nothingness rushed up to greet him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will probably be edited a bit before the end of the week. School is catching up to me and it's getting harder to update weekly. However, hopefully the wait will be worth it because the next story arc is "Therapy".
> 
> "That which blossoms - falls, the way of all flesh -in this world of flowers" is a Japanese death poem by the haiku poet Kiko.


	20. Therapy (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all wounds heal with time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! It's been a long time, eh? As stated in the continuation of this series (it's a series now!), school has me pretty firmly pinned down so I've decided to change up the posting schedule a bit. Chapters of Carry Me Home are now on a tentative biweekly update schedule and expansions of the series will (hopefully) be posted weekly. The expansions will be little side-stories filling in referenced memories or events not explicitly discussed in Carry Me Home. If there's anything you really want to hear about, I'm taking requests~
> 
> Additionally, the therapy arc is HUGE. Like...way larger than I thought it would be. So I'm cutting the chapter up into several smaller pieces as I research therapeutic methods etc etc etc. It also means the chapter count of this story increased again (Therapy was meant to be one chapter, but so far it's three). Anyway, I hope you guys don't all think I died or something!

A disorientating pulsing sensation started up the moment Kaneki attempted to open his eyes. It reminded him of how it felt to look directly into strobe lights ( _the kind every teenager insisted on using at high school dances_ ). He took a moment to collect himself and decided that the sensation ran deeper than just his eyes. The throbbing was in his **_brain_**.  
  
  
He felt fingers ghost across the back of his neck ( _and thought he felt quinque steel sliding in their wake_ ) and trail down his spine. He shuddered when a voice whispered

  
“We did get speared through the head. I imagine brain damage can’t be repaired at the drop of a hat.” 

  
Relief welled in his chest as he turned his head to face his younger self, a plea ( _stay_ ) on his lips. No one was there, however. Not even a hallucination. The emptiness of that thought was far more crushing than it should have been. The weight of it bore down on him and filled his lungs with sludge. He was ** _alone_** and he was ** _injured_** and **_where was everyone_**?  
  
  
Frantic to distance himself from his thoughts, Kaneki stumbled out of the room he was in ( _where was he?_ ) and paused when he heard the clattering sound of metal dropping on tile. He tried to stealthily weave through the halls towards the noises but his feet felt a little…disconnected from his head. The walls seemed to bend whenever he took a step and he was scraping his hands along them as he walked.  
  


Still, the sounds in the room went on uninterrupted and he felt secure in the knowledge that the source wasn’t aware of ( _or didn’t care about_ ) his approach. His disorientation worsened when he plodded directly into a brightly lit kitchen ( _everything here was white, wasn’t it?_ ) and had his senses assaulted by the smell of cooking. It smelt like garbage ( _he wanted to puke_ ).  
  


Hide stood over the stove wearing a ridiculously fluffy white apron that Kaneki remembered from a bet in their first year of university ( _this couldn’t be reality_ ) and had every fan in the place running, blasting the malodorous air out of the room through the vents. Kaneki tried to step closer to the apparition to touch him, to see if he was real, but the smell caused him to make a strangled gagging noise instead.  
  
  
Hide’s cheery atmosphere dissolved in a second and he flitted to Kaneki’s side, pushing him insistently from the room.

  
“Oh shit man, I’m so sorry. I thought I had ventilated the room pretty well, though I guess I forgot how good a hungry ghoul’s nose is.” 

  
Hide began to riffle through the apron’s interior pockets and pulled out a brown paper package. 

  
“Here you go. **_Eat up_**.” 

  
This was a dream…right? Everything around him had that hazy quality to it that convinced him it couldn’t be real ( _he always dreamed of Hide_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki took the meat ( _wrapped up like Anteiku’s_ ) and half-turned away from Hide ( _even if he wasn’t real…he still didn’t want him to…want him to **see**_ ) before putting it in his mouth. Everything felt strangely heavy afterwards and he became excruciatingly aware of his flesh moving under the surgical wrap he now felt digging into his skull ( _some felt like they were **behind his skin**_ ).  
  
  
Hide’s hands caressed his face and he pressed his lips to his bandaged forehead, telling him to go back to bed. Numbly, Kaneki obeyed, shuffling away.

  
  
~~~~~~~~

 

The next time he woke up wasn’t much different. His brain still felt like it was twitching with every beat of his heart and he was still **_alone_**. The walls warped unnaturally and his body still wasn’t moving smoothly. There was humming coming from the kitchen this time though, and he knew someone was waiting for him. The jarringly bright room didn’t smell of anything other than lavender and, though a part of him was curious, he had more pressing needs.  
  
  
Kaneki wrapped his arms around Hide’s waist and lay his forehead against his neck. He breathed deeply, wondering if Hide would smell wrong and this would all really be just a dream. His friend continued humming however, smelling just as much like sun-warmed grass, fresh-laundry, and almond oil as ever ( _it_ ** _was_** _him?_ ).

   
Though he knew something had happened to get him here, that there was a reason he was in a snow-white isolated apartment with his best friend instead of lying face-down in a pool of his own blood, he couldn’t drag it out of his exhausted mind. Though he knew he wasn’t **_worthy_** of touching Hide like this ( _his fingers folding over Hide’s stomach and his chin snagging against his collarbone while he cooked scentless human food **because of him**_ ) he knows that Hide wants him to ( _he’s pressing back against him, letting Kaneki support his weight, and he’s started humming one of Kaneki’s favourite tunes just like he always does when he craves affection_ ).  
  


He knew he was supposed to **_treasure_** Hide's feelings even if **_he couldn’t remember why_**. So instead of fleeing and ransacking his memories for answers, Kaneki let his shoulders relax and shifted with Hide as he continued his work. The room was comfortingly warm and the only sounds were the scraping of metal on metal, the occasional popping of grease in the pan, and Hide’s baritone humming vibrating through his throat. The heady, spicey, **_green_** smell of lavender flooded his nose and his bare toes curled into the snowy carpet pleasantly ( _wasn’t that tile before? Another night, another dream_ ).  
  
  
Sighing contentedly, Kaneki hummed along with Hide and gave into the feeling that no one else existed in the world.  

 

~~~~~~~~

  

“You look like a housewife in that apron.”   
  


He mumbled thickly when Hide switched tunes. Hide’s abdomen flexed under his fingers ( _his hands chased the warmth_ ) when he answered, reminding Kaneki yet again that he really was there. 

  
“Maybe that’s the point.” 

  
He chuckled with a voice full of mischief. 

  
“Maybe I want you to marry me, Kaneki Ken.” 

  
Kaneki huffed out a breathy laugh against Hide’s neck before nuzzling him affectionately with sloppy ill-coordinated movements. He’d missed this banter terribly, the ease in which he could fall into conversation with Hide and how right it felt to touch him ( _he felt happy in a blurry way_ ).  


“We’re already married, dumbass. I might divorce you for the apron though.”

  
The marriage joke was an old one that dated back to their elementary school days. He’d made Hide a flower-ring ( _several actually. It had taken time to get it right_ ), something symbolic of neverending friendship ( _soul-ties really..._ ) that he’d read about in a book. He'd seen fit to give it to him with as much ritualistic flair as possible ( _it kindof did seem like a marriage proposal, except there was no till death do us part_ ). Their friendship had always been like that - dramatic gestures of loyalty and affection, fantastical stories, acting out plays, indulging every strange urge that struck one or the other of them. He sunk back into it like a hot bath after a long day. 

  
“We’ve been together for so many years, my dandelion darling, weed of my heart. I feel the need to branch out, try something new. The apron has been making eyes at me for quite some time. It has such silky edges, so many feminine ruffles and curves, such a pure starch-white exterior! Ah, I long to stain it in my colours.” 

  
Hide sputtered and fumbled the pan, nearly pouring grease down the apron in question as he sucked air desperately between chortels.

  
“So that’s your game, sunbeam, ruler of all I adore? You want to stain her first? Alas, I should’ve known you wanted the apron too, seeing how you tie yourself to her.”

  
Kaneki affected a wounded tone, fingering the knot holding the apron to Hide’s torso and making as if he would fling it away.   
  


“Bah, you fool! Of course I don’t want the apron! I’ll stain her though, alright! You belong only to me!” 

  
Hide cried out, deepening his voice with false-anger as he twisted in Kaneki’s grip, placing the pan back down onto the stove ( _Kaneki turned the burner off...or he thought he did_ ). Face-to-face, both of their expressions slipped into mirth. Swaying gently on his feet, Kaneki pressed his forehead to Hide’s ( _something he hadn’t done in years_ ) and rolled it from side to side. 

  
“I wish I had’ve known being sick would turn you into a giant kitten, Kaneko. I’d’ve hung around way more often when you caught colds.” 

  
Instead of responding, Kaneki just kept up with what he was doing. He was feeling dizzy and giddy all at once and Hide’s scent was **_intoxicating_**.

  
“You smell so niiiiiiice.”

  
He slurred ( _oh, that was odd_ ) and Hide shook with laughter, his nose bumping against Kaneki’s. 

  
“Go back to bed, hubby-doo.”  


Grunting his assent, Kaneki fumbled his way back down the hall. He paused in his quest for bed to stare at the dirty footprints he was leaving in the plush carpet lining the halls ( _it felt like it meant something but he couldn't...recall_ ). Hide’s voice floated over to him from the doorway of the kitchen ( _he must’ve been watching him go_ ).

  
“Don’t worry about the dirt. Everything in this place needs to get cleaned like 20 times a day. I know all white seems ridiculous, but I picked this place out for everything I have in mind. We’ll talk about it when you’re feeling better, ok?”   
  


Kaneki flapped a hand dismissively at Hide ( _he didn’t care about interior decorating_ ) and went on his way. He crumbled onto his bed and felt the euphoria draining from him. He tried to cling to the feeling from the kitchen ( _no one else in the world_ ) but somehow it only made things worse. It felt like someone had scooped out a bit of his soul and left the rest of him filthy.  
  
  
He was tiring quickly and his thoughts were grinding to a halt. Still, before the darkness overtook him, Kaneki brushed against a thought that resonated with him.  
  
  
**_Something was missing_**.     
  


~~~~~~~~  


 

A hand was on his shoulder and roughly shaking him back and forth. Kaneki shot up to rip his assailant to pieces, however only succeeded in causing an overwhelming dizzy spell to overtake him. 

  
“Woah there! You’re like a spooked horse. I was just going to invite you to breakfast, man.”

  
Hide’s voice settled over him like a blanket and Kaneki tossed himself back down into his downey duvet, rolling himself into a cocoon. Hide was chortling and playing with his hair, making it stick straight up from his head. 

  
“Kaneki, buddy, you need a shower. Your hair is suuuuuuper gross.” 

  
Hide noted, styling it into a mohawk ( _he could feel all his roots straining towards the centre of his head_ ). Moaning incoherently, Kaneki swiped his hands away and brushed them through his own locks. Well, Hide was right ( _they were greasy as hell…gross_ ).  
  
  
He relinquished the warmth of his blankets and gave Hide a vehement ( _if bleary_ ) look of disgust ( _why was he so chipper in the…was it even morning?_ ).

  
“The shower is right down the hall.”

  
Hide was grinning cheekily at him, pinching his nose and pretending to fan the air away from his face. Though he muttered epitaphs under his breath, Kaneki loped away in the direction indicated, privately pleased that walking was getting easier. 

  
“Join us for breakfast in the kitchen when you’re done!”  


  
In the shower he got water in his mouth and inhaled it into his lungs. He supposed he should’ve seen it coming, laughing openmouthed as he cleaned up. Even the burning pain in his throat couldn’t dampen his amusement.   
  
  
Every single thing in the shower: shampoo, conditioner ( _a necessity for bleached hair_ ), soap, shaving cream ( _with no razors in sight_ ), and bath salts, were all lavender scented. Now that his mind wasn’t as fuzzy, Kaneki could even clearly recall the kitchen of this place being lavender scented.  
  
  
God, the fact that Hide knew what his most recent favourite flower was wasn’t even surprising ( _though he’d never told him_ ), but the lengths he was going to were hilarious. Kaneki smelt like a herb garden by the time he stepped out from under the spray and reached for a towel.   
  
  
Laughter threatened to bubble out of him again as he got a whiff of the detergent Hide must’ve used to launder it ( _lavender again, but with a twist of vanilla_ ). Chuckles escaped him when he realized his clothing was missing from the floor ( _of course Hide took it. Probably to wash or something. He **was** a housewife_ ).  
  


He sobered up quickly when he picked up what was left in its place however. A fresh set of designer jeans and a black and white printed t-shirt that he **_recognized_**. Not because they were his ( _all of his clothes had likely been destroyed during the _____ ) but because they **_should be_**. The style of them was clearly picked out by Tsukiyama, as had all his clothing since he’d left Anteiku the first time.  
  
  
Did Tsukiyama know he was here? Did they all know where he was? Oh GOD, what if they thought he was **_dead_** or worse and he PROMISED to come back ( _breathing was getting harder and his lungs were burning_ ). Kaneki pressed his face into the clothes and bit back the tears that pricked at his eyes. Eventually he got his breathing under control and the rest of his blind terror edged away with each deep huff of lavender, vanilla, and Hide.  
  


He scrubbed at his face mechanically, soaking up any evidence of his crying jag with brittle determination. Hysteria was lurking beneath his every movement and he was positive that if a single thing went wrong ( _like Hide asking him why his eyes were red_ ) he’d collapse.   
  
  
He was suddenly so acutely aware of everything that he’d tucked into little boxes in his brain, snippets ( _hands in his intestines, nearly killing his best friend, his favourite food decaying in his mouth, deep and pervasive loneliness_ ) of memories that put him on edge, all pushing to the forefront of his mind because it was empty.  
  
  
**_He was empty_**. Kaneki had no purpose now…no distractions…and these ** _things_** ( _that wouldn’t break anyone but him, only him, only he would be **so easy**_ ) were going to consume him and everyone would **_see_** how pathetic he had become.  
  
  
There was blood on the towel now, the scent of it reminding him that he hungry again because ** _of course he was_**. Though Kaneki loathed the undeniable evidence that he was a ghoul ( _he’d never been hungry like this before_ ) his body’s response to food broke the cycle of his thoughts and forced him to recall that he had people to meet for breakfast.   
  


People. Us. More than one.   
  
  
**_The raid.  
_**  
  
Kaneki wrenched on his clothes with shaking fingers ( _he heard a few stitches pop and damn did he ever appreciate Tsukiyama’s ridiculously fine-tailored tastes now_ ). He was going to see Amon again. He was going to see him as himself. Not as a ghoul. As a person. As Kaneki Ken.  
  
  
Oh man, there were a lot of things left unsaid entrenched in their every interaction. Kaneki wasn’t sure if he could own up to it all yet, especially in front of Hide.  
  
  
He opened the door without paying attention to his actions and walked straight into his aforementioned best friend. While Kaneki struggled for something to say ( _his eyes were probably still red, he’d been showering for a million years, and probably looked like he was having a heart attack_ ) Hide slipped something over his head and he lost all vision in one eye.   
  
  
Blinking in confusion, Kaneki lifted his fingers to caress the familiar silky patch of cloth while Hide rubbed him arms soothingly.

  
“My eyepatch? You already know I’m a half so…”

  
He murmured, scrunching his eyebrows together feeling completely lost.   
  


“It’s stylish.” 

  
Hide cut in and chuckled. He wrapped his knuckles against Kaneki’s chin and then grabbed his hand, tugging him down the hall. Kaneki sighed and allowed himself to be pulled. He suddenly noticed how much better he felt with the eyepatch on ( _less exposed, less vulnerable_ ). Just as he was about to strangle the last of his anxiety himself ( _it was rearing up as they approached the kitchen_ ), Hide opened his mouth again.

   
“I made you coffee. Anteiku-style _._ ”

   
The “so you’ll be able to eat, too” went unsaid and Kaneki felt the last stubborn knot is his stomach fall apart. This breakfast was going to be awkward as all hell and he had a library’s worth of questions for his friends, but for now he was content to just be Kaneki Ken.

 


	21. Therapy (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oftentimes, soldiers with PTSD find that their symptoms recede when they are on the battlefield. The sense of purpose it gives them, the pressure, and the strict regime maintained in the army help them feel like they are "normal" again and that many displays of their symptoms (paranoia, lashing out, entering survival mode) are completely rational. However, once these people are forced to return to a peaceful life, the illusion collapses in an extremely painful way. In a similar vein, many sufferers of depression have periods during which they feel fine and are horribly scarred by the process of falling back into old patterns and feelings. This can be confusing, cause anxiety, and some people may choose to retreat from these emotions. I hope that this explanation will help readers understand some of Kaneki's reactions in this chapter and the emotional struggle he will be facing throughout the therapy arc.

Fingers twitching in nervous anticipation, Hide approached the kitchen with Kaneki in tow. Warm golden light spilled through the doorway and onto the stark white carpets muffling his steps. He’d done his best to make this kitchen look inviting despite the awkwardness of its use and some of its faintly threatening contents.  
  
  
He hoped against hope that the domesticity of the room would be effective at calming everyone’s nerves during the conversation to come. Sure, Kaneki was relaxed now ( _that was practically a miracle. He’d definitely been crying_ ), but he could tell from Amon’s accounts of their interactions that there was tension between them that could set either of them off.  
  
  
Hide gingerly placed one foot into the room and then, when nothing exploded, swaggered in with his usual confidence. Amon was leaning hard on the table and rested his chin atop tented fingers. He appeared to be fighting to stay awake and didn’t react to Hide’s presence ( _or Kaneki’s, though he was half-hiding behind him_ ).  
  


“Koutarou, didn’t I ask you to make some pancakes?”  
  


Hide clicked his tongue at the man who had just snapped to attention. Amon whirled on him, eyes wide with surprise and an excuse on his lips. Whatever that feeble attempt would’ve been, Hide didn’t know, because it withered the second Amon caught sight of Kaneki.  
  
  
Hide’s eyes narrowed when he saw Amon’s entire body twitch forward and he caught the flicker of longing that filled the gesture. Kaneki pressed himself more closely into Hide’s back ( _he could feel his heart pick up speed_ ) before heaving a sigh and pushing away.  
  
  
Stepping forward, Kaneki shyly ducked his head and stammered,

  
 “Koutarou…good morning? Evening? To be honest I’m not sure.”

  
In a startlingly flustered tone ( _hadn’t he been terrified of meeting him?_ ). Hide watched as the stiffness in Amon’s shoulders ebbed and his tension was replaced with self-consciousness ( _though the concern in his eyes remained and his hands lurched forwards again, likely due to the rawness of Kaneki’s voice_ ).  


 “Morning. I’m not surprised you didn’t remember. It’s been awhile since either of you were on your feet.”  
  


 Amon’s voice cracked on “morning”, however he regained his composure quickly. Hide would’ve been amused if it weren’t for the fact that Amon had just said something deeply incriminating and Kaneki was looking at him curiously ( _don’t ask don’t ask_ ).  
  


“Awhile? How long were **_we_  **asleep, Koutarou?”  
  


Hide blanched a bit ( ** _he’d stressed the we_** _, **oh shit**_ ) and tried to make a cutting motion towards the oblivious investigator to silence him.  
  


 “You and Nagachika were out for a couple of days. That kind of thing really messes with your sense of time. Nagachika had this fever and you…I’m happy you’re both alright.”   
  


Hide forcefully exhaled through his nose ( _he felt terrible about everything Amon had gone through while they were down, but now was not the time for admissions_ ) and strained his ears to catch the inevitable choking sound that left Kaneki’s throat.  
  


“I…see.”  
  


 His friend managed to say, side-eying Hide in a way that screamed “guilt”. Evidently Amon was capable of reading  ** _that expression_**  ( _but not any of the shut up vibes Hide had been sending him_ ) because he hunched over in shame. Now Hide had two sad idiots to contend with instead of one ( _he was way too tired for this shit_ ).  
  


“Somebody make me a damn coffee. Preferably a trained barista.”  
  


 He muttered, taking a seat at the table. His words didn’t manage to penetrate the thick cloud of worry and remorse floating around Kaneki’s head. He glanced at Amon’s equally exhausted visage and thought of a new approach.  
  


 “Hey ‘Neki. This guy’s been taking care of us for days. The least you can do is make him a cup.”  
  


He chastised, wagging his finger. Reentering the realm of the living, Kaneki flushed heavily, quickly uttering,  
  


 “Of course.”  
  


Before making his way over to the coffee pot ( _Hide had left out the ingredients he’d used to make Kaneki’s breakfast_ ). Turning even redder than Kaneki, Amon scrambled to rectify Hide’s rude statement ( _“No no, you don’t need to…it was no trouble…I mean…ugh”_ ) and was completely ignored by Kaneki ( _getting all wrapped up in routine…typica_ l), Hide noted with pleasure.  
  
  
He probably shouldn’t tease the two of them, but knocking Amon off balance had become something of a hobby long ago.  Soon Kaneki was humming quietly, brewing a fresh pot ( _Hide refused to acknowledge the silent commentary on his coffee-making skills_ ) with a significantly more relaxed air about him. Hide picked up the tune nostalgically ( _all of Kaneki’s songs had that quality_ ) and Kaneki’s lips slanted with amusement.  
  


Again, Amon’s words dried up and Hide flicked his gaze to him.The giant investigator looked like a cornered rabbit and was completely focused on the curve of Kaneki’s mouth. A wave of chortles threatened to interrupt Hide’s humming and it grew reedy with his restraint ( _he wondered how Amon would’ve reacted to meeting Kaneki at Anteiku when he was new_ ).   
  
  
The noise attracted Amon’s attention and Hide winked at him, holding his fists up in an exaggerated thumbs up. His superior looked mortified and stared into his lap ( _though his lips were still twisted upwards_ ) where his fidgeting hands lay.  
  
  
The minutes ticked by sluggishly, Kaneki’s quick motions the only activity in the apartment. Hide pressed his cheek into the cool wood of the table and surrendered himself to the brief warmth a happy Kaneki provided ( _he must’ve really liked being in Anteiku, despite it all, if just making a cup of coffee got him like this_ ). His humming faded out as he nodded off.

 

-POV Change-

 

Kaneki delicately placed a saucer and a latte on the table in front of Koutarou, struggling to stop his digits from twitching now that he had nothing to do. He watched intently as the man before him engulfed the mug in his gargantuan hands and gazed at his latte art oddly ( _should he not have drawn anything? Touka always said he was only good at drawing flowers, so he had just…_ ).  
  
  
He shifted from foot to foot, finally shooting a glance at Hide to telepathically beg for help. His lungs felt like they were shriveling into dust when he noticed that his friend was completely still on the table  _(“you guys were out for days”. Hide had been really hurt and he’d pushed himself too far and what if he col-)._  


A mighty snore tore out of the slumbering idiot and Kaneki breathed a sigh of relief, trying to calm his racing heart ( _where had those thoughts come from? Of course Hide was just sleeping_ ). His attempts failed and he flinched terribly when something hot hovered near the exposed skin of his forearm. Kaneki whirled to face the source and homed in on Koutarou’s coffee-warmed slender fingers dangling in the air.  
  
  
He could read hurt and self-deprecation in the man’s features and a spike of guilt dug deep into his anxiety. A strangled apologetic sound left his throat ( _what was wrong with him?_ ). It was sufficiently loud enough to wake Hide up, somehow twisting his stomach up even more painfully. 

  
“’ps…fell asleep. ‘Neki, where’s ‘fee?”

  
Hide questioned him, sleep thick on his tongue. Kaneki was locked in place however, eyes trained on Koutarou’s still extended hand. 

  
“I’m sorry, Koutarou. I’m a bit jumpy right now. This is all a lot…to process…I think.”

  
He whispered, though the constriction of his throat made the words difficult to get out since each one made him feel like crying ( _had the mortar eroded out of his emotional wall?)_. Koutarou casted his eyes downwards and withdrew his hand, taking a deep gulp of his latte. 

  
“Anteiku’s blends are very nice."

  
He said carefully, seemingly picking each word with care ( _he had chosen well. Koutarou knew a lot about his time as a ghoul. He didn’t have anything to hide. **There was nothing to fear**. Something kept eating at him, but he tried to push it away with these thoughts_ ). 

  
“Yeah, they are. It’s why I wish I had some right in front me. Like…yesterday.”

  
Hide was whining at him. Spell broken, Kaneki spun on his heel to go grab the other coffee he’d prepared ( _full of sugar and cream, just like Hide always took it_ ). He slid it over to Hide, who looked completely mystified by the contents of his mug. 

  
“Ah, I guess I always did take my coffee like this, didn’t I?”

  
He murmured, blowing gently on the surface.

  
“Did?”

  
Kaneki asked. Hide ducked his head and Kaneki could see his ears turn pink through a part in his hair. Confused, he glanced around, accidentally looking straight at the table’s other occupant. Koutarou met his eyes and then smirked at Hide playfully ( _though he continued to look a smidge subdued_ ).

  
“Nagachika takes his coffee black."

  
He stated pointedly, raising his voice above Hide’s mortified groans. Kaneki felt like he was missing something ( _these two had shared many things while he was gone, things he might never know_ ) and nudged Hide with his foot to request an explanation.  


“I just…I thought…I’d be able to understand you better or something. Cause you can only take coffee black now. I uh…wanted to know what it tasted like.”

  
Kaneki blinked, perplexed. 

  
“Coffee tastes like coffee…? I don’t really get it.”

  
He stated awkwardly, unsure of how to react ( _this whole situation was getting weird_ ). In response, Hide buried his face in his arms, muttering about how Kaneki was “just supposed to get these things” and “why can you read between the lines in books but not in life”. Kaneki felt a bit stung by Hide’s statements ( _the mortar just kept washing away_ ) and tried not to let it show, choosing instead to wait silently for Hide to explain. Koutarou sat noiselessly at the other side of the table and kept peeking at him from the corner of his eye.  
  
  
Finally, with no answer forthcoming, Kaneki’s agitation began to show on his face ( _he saw Koutarou’s feet twitch towards him. The investigator was making this forlorn expression that only fueled his embarrassment_ ). 

  
“Hide.”

  
He demanded, patience worn exceptionally thin and tense as hell. Startled, his friend lifted his head from the table at last, red-faced. Hide squinted at him for a few moments before his features smoothed out repentantly.

  
“I meant that I never took my coffee completely black because I didn’t like how bitter it was. But since you had to drink it like that, you’d have to force yourself to like it, right? I kinda felt like I’d be closer to you if I forced myself to like it too.”

  
Hide’s voice sounded rueful and Kaneki was stricken by how irrational his response to the entire exchange had been. Things had never been so strained between himself and Koutarou before, and they certainly had never been so tense with Hide except when…( _late at night in the park, staring up at a pitch-black sky and wondering why he was alive, trying to concentrate on his heart where he felt like his feelings should be and finding a void reminiscent of a starless night. He’d cried then. He had told Hide he wanted to…)._  
  


“You aren’t alright, are you, ‘Neki?”

  
Hide’s tone was so gentle, supplicating, so  ** _sure_**  that it hurt. Everything hurt.  ** _Why was he here?_** He should be fighting, bleeding, dead, or going home to the ghouls he owed his life to.  ** _He didn’t want to be here_**.  
  


“You don’t need to bottle it up anymore.”

  
God, did Hide ever stop acting like he knew everything about him ( _he did though_ )!? Kaneki strode over to the kitchen counter, presenting Hide with his back. He didn’t WANT to stop bottling it up ( _the mortar, he had to replace the mortar or the wall would come down_ ). His feelings fucking hurt and  ** _he didn’t want to look at them_**. He didn’t want to see himself for what he was. He was so close to ignoring it before ( _strong strong be strong, Kaneki_ ).  
  
  
Being here like this… ** _they’d try to force it out of him_**.

  
“I know that this is cruel, but Kaneki, you need to stop hurting yourself.”

  
Something snapped inside of him. 

  
“WHAT DO YOU KNOW, HUH!? THREE DAYS, HIDE!? PEOPLE DON’T JUST SLEEP SHIT OFF FOR DAYS AT A TIME! THEY DON’T DO THAT UNLESS THEY SHOULD BE IN A HOSPITAL! YOU HURT YOURSELF FOR ME ALL THE TIME AND  ** _I DON’T WANT YOU TO_**.”

  
“Ken, he’s only trying to-“

  
“SHUT UP, KOUTAROU! DO I EVEN WANT TO ASK WHAT YOU’RE GIVING UP TO BE HERE WITH ME!? NEITHER OF YOU EVER ASKED ME WHAT I WANTED!!!!”

  
“You’ve done similar things for us, Kaneki.”

  
“I’M A FUCKING GHOUL. IT DOESN’T MATTER WHEN I GET HURT!”

  
He was screaming at them both now and his right index finger hung bonelessly. His voice got louder with each interjection and his anger boiled over when he saw how calm they both looked ( _like they’d expected him to blow up_ ).

  
“It does matter, Kaneki. God, listen, you slept for way longer than me. Your wounds were nearly fatal.”

  
Hide’s words just kept rushing out like cool mountain water, trying to soothe the scabs and new cuts surfacing all over Kaneki’s battered psyche ( _but they just kept washing away at this fucking wall he’d built_ ). His anger was beginning to be flavoured with desperation.

  
“Shut up! You wandered around the second you woke up. You tried to fucking cook, you miserable piece of shit!”

  
He cried out hoarsely ( _yelling was draining his strength faster than he’d expected_ ).  
  


“You’re both idiots. If I had’ve known Nagachika and you were wandering around at night, I would’ve carried you both back to bed myself.”  
  


A stunned silence followed Koutarou’s annoyed declaration. Then chortles began escaping Hide ( _that sound always made him smile_ ) and Kaneki’s tenuous hold on his anger completely collapsed. Completely drained, he began to laugh too, clutching at his stomach and trying not to be sick at the way his world heaved with each gasping chuckle ( _his finger throbbed dully and only worsened the affair_ ). 

  
“Carry us…to bed.”

  
Hide choked out, dragging his hands down his cheeks.

  
“Quite the bold offer.”

  
Kaneki managed, snorting. 

  
“Tch, why do we have to go to bed when he doesn’t.”

  
“He’s treating us like children, Kaneki. Unless he meant…to go to bed with us?”

  
“I didn’t think he was the type to be such a perv.”

  
“Perverts always look normal at first, dear.”

  
“Then you could be a pervert too!”

  
“How did you know?”

  
“The apron told me!”

  
The pair of them collapsed into giggles to the point of agony and Kaneki sat down, resting his aching head against the floor. From his position he couldn’t see Koutarou’s face, but he could hear undignified sputtering above the din their laughter created.  
  
  
A few wheezing breaths later, and everything was quiet again. Minutes passed and all of the fight had gone out of Kaneki. His stress was completely pushed back under the weight of his exhaustion.  
  
  
Briefly, he shut his eyes, only to open them again at the sound of footfalls. Koutarou stepped around the counter and gingerly scooped him into his arms, swiftly making his way down the hall. 

  
“I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, however you’ve been down here for awhile. Nagachika and I have decided our conversation can wait for another day.”

  
Kaneki regarded the investigator tiredly ( _had he fallen asleep and missed that?_ ), taking in his usually strong features ( _square jaw, straight nose, strange eyebrows_ ) and the way they had collapsed into a boyish visage ( _in other words, Koutarou still looked like he was kicking himself_ ).

  
“I’m not mad at you. Not really. I’m mad at me.”

  
Kaneki sighed and closed his eyes.

  
“I can’t think straight. This isn’t how things are supposed to be. I decided to accept…but I’m…it’s hard, ok?”

  
Koutarou lowered him sluggishly onto his mattress and knelt at his bedside, listening attentively. 

  
“I’m stronger than this. I don’t…I’m hurting you. I shouldn’t be here. But I should. I need…I need…”

  
His eyes burned and he forced himself to stop talking. He had no idea what he needed ( ** _help_** ).

  
“Ken, it’s ok. This is confusing for all of us. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to…just look at myself. Without any stresses, without a job, without people around me to buffer my emotions. You…it’s ok to be overwhelmed.”

  
Shame tried to curl its claws into Kaneki’s back and tear into his spine, paralyzing him, but his fatigue got to him first. As his consciousness drifted away, he felt his fingers catch on Amon’s sleeve. He wanted him to stay. He wanted him to go. He didn’t…

  
**_He didn’t know._**


	22. Therapy (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, this is the end of the Therapy Arc at last! Honestly I kind of want to rewrite this entire arc, but the major plot points are still what I want them to be so I'll accept it for now and finish writing the rest. It was really hard trying to pick a POV to tell these chapters from and I hope I managed to get across what an emotionally charged affair this is for everyone involved (even poor Amon, though he didn't get to say much). 
> 
> Additionally, I want to make it clear that everything that goes down here is morally ambiguous at best. I don't think that pretty much any person who is struggling with mental illness or trauma should have their independence stripped away or should be forced to rely on other people so heavily. Kaneki is very special case and again, whether or not this approach is right is...kind of up in the air. Haha, I don't approve of my own characters actions but it's totally what they would do. Anyway, this arc has been a struggle but I hope you still enjoy it!

Nightmares had lorded over him for the majority of the night. Kaneki dreams were strange and malformed. Each one had been tinted in the same intense shade of puce, a combination of red and violet that stained the insides of all mammals. When he finally awoke, it was with a gasp of relief and sweat-soaked sheets clinging to his exposed back.   
  
  
He ran shaking hands over his face and pushed down on his eyes until he saw stars that erased the final vestiges of his dreams.

   
Inbetween calming breaths, Kaneki caught the sound of someone else snoring. At first, he believed it was coming from outside his door ( _it wouldn’t be the first time Hide had slept outside his room_ ), but as he continued listening he realized that the rumbling noise was coming from the floor. Nonsense visions pushed aside for the time being, Kaneki rearranged himself so he could peer over the edge of the dampened mattress.

  
Koutarou was passed out face-down on the ground and had one hand wrapped around the sheets in an awkward looking death grip. Kaneki’s vision wavered ( ** _he’d stayed_** ) and he hastily rolled and buried his face in a pillow to think.   
  
  
Though, by some stroke of luck, he’d managed to escape whatever conversation Hide ( _and seemingly Koutarou_ ) had planned for him yesterday, he knew that he couldn’t leave it alone again ( _they’d probably both sleep on his floor, get sick, and need someone who could actually cook to take care of them_ ).  
  
  
Sighing softly, Kaneki let his hand dangle off of the mattress and wrapped it around Koutarou’s, prying his fingers off of the sheet. The investigator’s hand thumped to floor and he released a quiet groan of pain.

  
“Hey, Koutarou. I can’t get off the bed while you’re in the way.”

  
Kaneki whispered, poking his head into the exhausted man’s view. Koutarou’s expression did a 180, transitioning from befuddled irritation to nervous anticipation, as he spotted him.

  
“Good morning. I…didn’t mean to fall asleep here. I’m…”

  
Koutarou mumbled, shifting his gaze down to his professional ( _uncomfortable_ ) looking attire. It was fairly obvious that he hadn’t meant to sleep on the ground ( _he hadn’t gotten himself a pillow or blanket_ ) and Kaneki pitied him a bit after the night before, so he decided against teasing him.  
  


“It’s alright. Thank you…for being here. I’d like to get dressed though, if you don’t mind.”  
  


He needed to be alone for awhile. Sleeping hadn’t de-stressed him like he had hoped and he didn’t want to blow up on the two of them again during what was likely going to be an anxiety-riddled conversation. Koutarou nodded a few times, seemingly still out of it ( _he didn’t move to leave_ ). Kaneki stared at him, waiting for the moment that he’d realize.  
  
  
Sure enough, Koutarou paused mid-nod and his eyes focused sharply on Kaneki’s face ( _he always seemed to zero in on that_ ). Immediately, he squeezed his eyes shut and started stuttering out an apology, struggling to his feet simultaneously. He bumped into the doorframe and Kaneki didn’t say a word as he watched Koutarou finally manage to shut the door.  
  
  
Alone at last, he chuckled weakly and reclined back onto soft mattress.

  
“Deep breaths, Kaneki. Deep breaths.”  
  


He owed this to them, at least. He could listen to what they had to say today and decide what to do tomorrow. It wasn’t like he could leave right now ( _he strongly suspected he didn’t want to anyway_ ).

 

~~~~~~~

 

The walk down to the kitchen felt incredibly long. It was odd. Though the entire apartment seemed to have been designed to be as non-threatening as possible, Kaneki was getting a distinct “mental hospital” vibe from it. It only heightened his anticipation of an interrogation. Arduously and haltingly, Kaneki made his way into the glaringly bright room.  
  
  
Hide awaited him at the stupidly large table, sitting at the head of it ( _like a school principal behind his desk_ ) with what looked like a soup bowl with a handle ( _Kaneki shot it a querying look, but could only discern that it contained a dark brown liquid_ ). He was wearing flannel pajamas and the expression of a petulant child. Koutarou had positioned himself behind the island counter and was fidgeting with a colourful bowl of cereal ( _there were red marks on his face still from how he’d slept_ ).  
  
  
Stiffly, Kaneki pulled out a chair and sat down across from Hide. The bowl-with-handles was then shoved across the table towards him, sloshing dangerously before he grabbed and steadied it.  
  
  
“Wha-“  
  
  
He began, eyebrows furrowing in consternation.

  
“It’s breakfast, ‘Neki. I made you some proper coffee. I figured you’d want to make it yourself, but I’m not going to argue with you today about what you put in it.”

  
Hide responded in a clipped tone, even though he was pampering him ( _was he sulking over yesterday? Kaneki had to keep his cool this time_ ). Footsteps echoed into the silence following Hide’s statement. Koutarou situated himself next to Hide and sat straight-backed in his chair, eyes bright and alert. He looked like he was about to attend a business meeting and the dissonance between his and Hide’s attitudes made Kaneki twitch.

  
“Everyone can eat first. However, once breakfast is done, I would like to set down some ground rules for our time here.”

  
Hide declared grouchily, stabbing his eggs viciously with his toast. Kaneki tried not to let his hesitation show as he took a cautious sip from his “mug” of “coffee”. It tasted alright ( _it was a bit burnt, however the sugar cubes Yoshimura made tasted amazing enough to conceal that_ ) and Kaneki was content to sip at it **_as_ _slowly as humanly possible_**. It was childish, yet it stayed some of the worry in his heart and gave him the opportunity to observe Koutarou and Hide’s interactions.

  
Though not in the best mood, Hide still teased the older man about his choice in cereal and had cackled rather jovially when he spilled egg on his suit. Amon took it in all in stride, fixing Hide with a thoroughly dissatisfied look for the yolk stains.  
  
  
Kaneki was a bit surprised to see that they got along ( _in a sense_ ), though he supposed that he shouldn’t be. He’d really appreciated the dry views Koutarou had displayed on some occasions when they’d been alone. It had reminded him of Hide on the prowl, when he was in the zone and chatting away for Kaneki’s ears alone.   
  
  
Along a similar thread, the two of them had both displayed the same inquisitive nature, independence, and backbone that supported the formation of each of their opinions. Hide was significantly more flexible with his, but other than that, Kaneki couldn’t see any other key differences.  
  
  
It brought a rueful grin to his face ( _his disappearance had created an unlikely friendship, hadn’t it?_ ).

  
While he had been lost in thought, Kaneki’s coffee was drained and his stomach was full. Likewise, the table’s other occupants had finished their meals and were now eying him expectantly.

  
“Alright…let’s get this over with.”

  
Kaneki muttered. Both men nodded across from him and Hide’s gaze settled somewhere over his left ear.

  
“I’ve thought about this for a long time and I’ve considered pretty much every angle I could. I’d appreciate it if you could let me say everything I need to say without interrupting. I’m going to lay down a series of rules and I want you to know that I will let you contest them for however long you want **_after_** I am done. Is that alright?”

  
Hide’s voice was calm, flat, and didn’t really leave room for argument. Some of the irritation from yesterday bubbled up in Kaneki’s throat at the challenge presented to him. Nonetheless, he nodded and folded his hands into his lap, ready to hear the rest.

  
“Everyone here will stay long enough to completely recover from their wounds. There will be no talk of ‘duties’ ‘callings in life’ or whatever other heroic bullshit we have going on in our lives outside of designated talk times. These ‘talk times’ will be focused on repairing any damaged relationships, unhealthy self-images or entrenched beliefs, and cognitive dissonance anyone here may be experiencing."  
  
  
Hide tapped his forehead, narrowing his eyes at all of them.  
  
  
"These talk times expect complete transparency. If there is a topic one does not wish to broach, they must say so. It is expected that the other participants in these talks will not bring up taboo topics intentionally and will not ‘push the subject’ so to speak. We will be having these talks once a day and the session will go on for as long as it needs to."  
  
  
How long would that be? What was that even supposed to mean?  
  
  
" _Everyone_ will speak. Afterwards, if you wish to be alone then that is your right. However, you will only be allowed to isolate yourself if you are not deemed to be in any danger. On a related note, this apartment is a safe and enclosed space. Do not let any strangers in. **_No one here knows who we are_**.”

  
Hide paused for breath and a tense hush filled the gap. Kaneki’s knuckles creaked and the urge to crack his fingers was building up unpleasantly. Koutarou made eye contact with him as Hide continued to collect his thoughts and gestured to his hand. He then coughed ( _incredibly fakely_ ) a few times.   
  
  
Catching on, Kaneki hurriedly let both of his indexes snap and felt his heart rate slow. Hide ignored the interruption and continued as if Koutarou’s coughing fit had never occurred.

  
“There will be no self-harm. You will all eat regularly. None of you will maintain ridiculous and harmful training schedules while you are injured or afterwards. I will know if you bleed for whatever reason because these carpets are very VERY white. Similarly, if either of you sweats like a pig, ** _I will know_**."  
  
  
Hide's hands clenched tightly enough that his knuckles went white.   
  
  
"Now, on a more personal note…Kaneki.”

   
His speech began losing its calm veneer.

  
“I will not tolerate you wandering around outside in this state. I will not let you go back to hunting down whatever supervillains you see fit while your brain is still knitting itself back together. Your friends know you are alive, so I won’t let you go back to see them just yet. I won’t tell you where we are. I…I wouldn’t be able…if you left again like this I couldn’t stand it."  
  
  
What...had he done...  
  
  
"This distance is driving me insane when you are right in front of me. I can touch you now but I won’t be…I want…Kaneki, when you are all healed up, you’ll be free to go. I don’t want to be your jailor and I don’t think Koutarou would let me do that anyway."  
  
  
Jailer? How long was he going to be here?   
  
  
"Still, I can’t let you leave me again without resolving any of this. Please talk to me again buddy, please don’t just get better physically, please don’t just go running off the second that you get the chance.”  
  


Kaneki was frozen in his seat. It was like Hide’s words had become an avalanche and had buried him alive, encasing him in a bed of ice and snow. The only noises he could make out anymore were the beating of his own heart and an echoing “please”. His friend’s feelings were **_heavy_** and he was going to have to accept them ( _was this why he'd never shared this much before?_ ).   
  
  
Amon shared Hide's sentiments, so his full load was double this. Just because Kaneki had promised himself that could let people care for him, acknowledge their love and cherish it, didn’t mean that it was going to be easy.  
  


He couldn’t go see the ghouls from Anteiku ( _would they even **believe** he was alive?) _ and he couldn’t go outside. He couldn’t check on them and he couldn’t keep secrets. He couldn’t be…alone in this anymore (“ _please please please don’t abandon me_ ”).   
  
  
Would it be easy for a good person to say yes? Could a good person accept terms that strip them of their freedom for their own good? Was it the right thing to do, to recover himself at the expense of the things he’d been defending ( _there would be Doves chasing Anteiku’s ghouls, he wasn’t sure if Yoshimura had escaped, if Aogiri would come back, if Banjou had delivered his package_ ).  
  
  
The decision had been easy when he was sure he was dying. When he had known he was human and selfish. In the light of day however, Kaneki…didn’t know what standard he was trying to uphold anymore. If there was anything more to himself than “ ** _A Good Person_** ” and a “ ** _Monster_** ”.

  
“Please ‘Neki. Please.”  
  


Koutarou looked like someone had slapped him and he was rubbing Hide’s shoulders to soothe him. Sound was seeping back into the room ( _was Hide crying? Was Koutarou?_ ) and Kaneki forced himself to remember his earlier vow ( _“accept them” “keep your cool”_ ) because his tolerance was running out. He’d made promises to himself that he intended to keep, no matter how his resolve wavered.   
  
  
Being a good person or a monster wasn’t something he could choose anymore. He was too damaged to go on.

  
“What am I supposed to do while you’re at work?”

  
He joked, the sentence coming out strangled and thin. Neither Hide or Koutarou answered him and the room grew quiet as Hide’s tears slowed.  
  
  
They weren’t going to go to work. Hide wouldn’t say where they were. **_Koutarou_**  wasn’t going to go to work. They’d disappeared from a raid full of casualties on either side. Hide had been asleep for days, they’d both been injured, and when they left the car had smelt like…

  
“Hrrggh-“

  
Kaneki clamped a hand over his mouth, feeling the blood drain from his face as he broke out into a cold sweat. **_They had faked their deaths_**. He’d been worried about the ghouls at Anteiku but they… ** _everyone they loved thought they were dead_** but everyone knew he was alive and it was **_all for him_**. It was insane. The entire thing was insane.   
  
  
He barely even knew Koutarou and Hide was just his friend.

  
“I…you…why!?”  
  


The question tore out of him as a banshee shriek before he bit down hard on his fist, the coppery taste of blood keeping his nausea at bay. He was going to vomit because this was crazy, they were crazy, and he didn’t deserve this even a little bit and was this even right!?  
  


His world lurched to the right before steadying out and Kaneki realized he was airborne. Koutarou had scooped him out of his chair and was carrying him into the living room. Through his hysteria, Kaneki could feel Hide walking along next to them. The plush surface of the couch brushed against his hands as he landed on it and he fisted the material in his sluggishly bleeding hands ( _they should’ve healed why wasn’t he better why was he bleeding what was-_ ) only to have it pried away.   
  
  
Warm hands encircled both of his and he was fenced in from either side human bodies.

  
“Ssssh…don’t worry about that, Ken. You didn’t have any choice in the matter.”

  
Koutarou’s throat vibrated against his cheek and he felt the man’s jaw working from its lofty position atop his head.

  
“Hmmm…I agree with Sugar-Cereal.”

  
Hide was speaking into his shoulder. The pile of limbs he was in shook as Koutarou growled something rude and Hide responded in kind. The movement hurt his head and he barely held back a whimper. He wanted to be alone. He wanted it to be quiet. Nobody…nobody should touch him.

  
“Hey, meathead, shut up. Give him some space and just hold his hand.”

  
“Ah, crap, so-“

  
“ ** _Don’t apologize_**.”

  
“Of course.”

  
Circles were rubbed into the backs of Kaneki’s hands and he held back the urge to wrench them away. He wanted to curl into himself tightly and he didn’t want anyone to see him do it. The circles continued and tears began to gather in his eyes. His hands felt warmer than the rest of him. It was soothing and he didn’t want to calm down. Not because of comfort other people had given him ( _weak weak weak_ ). Not when he couldn’t do it alone.  


The circles continued.  
  


They continued even when fingers wiped away his tears and the last wall of his independence.

  
He couldn’t fix himself. He wasn’t ok. **_He wasn’t going to just be ok_**.

  
“I’m sorry we forced you to expose your weaknesses like this; that we’re forcing you to rely on us. We thought we had to push you because you’re stubborn but…I regret this. I’m sorry. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable and I don’t know what I’m doing with myself. I can’t leave you alone but I probably also shouldn’t just keep touching you and forcing you to –“

  
Oddly, Amon’s ridiculous babbling soothed the blinding pain his revelation brought on. Each apology was like a salve on the things he had let fester inside of himself for too long. He deserved the apologies ( _though something in him kept whispering that he didn’t_ ), however he had already heard enough. Kaneki curled himself tightly between Hide and Amon, resting his head on the latter’s lap.

  
“I’ve cried in front of you before. I’ve cried all over you. You saw what I needed then and responded, didn’t you? So it’s ok. You can reach out to me, Koutarou.”

  
Amon squeaked and forewent a reply, adjusting himself to let Kaneki rest more comfortably instead.

  
“We should have a sleepover dogpile. Didn’t you always want to have those when we were kids, Kaneki?”

  
Hide was laughing tentatively. Since he’d soothed Amon, Kaneki figured he could ease up on his best friend as well.

  
“Hush you, that’s embarrassing.”

  
He protested, struggling into a position where you could see Hide’s face. His friend had a faraway look in his eyes and his lip quirked nostalgically.

  
“It always made me feel safe and warm. I could tell that you loved me as much as I loved you.”

  
Hide’s lashes were still clumped together from his crying jag and his voice was scratchy, though something about him was captivating in that moment. It was like watching the exact moment a flower unfurled or the first droplets fell in a storm.   
  
  
His best friend, someone he’d sworn to protect forever and had never once given up on completely, gave him a heart-wrenchingly sorrowful smile and whispered,

  
“Hey, reassure me Kaneki? Let’s have a dogpile sleepover again.”

  
**_So I know you love me as much as I love you_**.

 

~~~~~~~

 

They remained on the couch the entire night and Hide pulled it out into a bed so they could watch movies. It was cramped for space in the "dogpile" and none of them knew anything about what movies were popular ( _all of them had been too wrapped up in their own worlds to watch movie trailers or the news_ ).   
  
  
In the end, they just selected randomly and nobody was truly paying attention. Amon kept his grip on Kaneki’s left hand and Nagachika maintained his on the right. Amon didn’t know what the other two were thinking about, but Amon’s many transgressions hung over his head like he was at the executioner’s block.  


He knew that what he and Nagachika had done to the CCG would not be readily excused and that he may not ever be able to go back. He knew that Kaneki might never really recover from all the trauma inflicted upon him. He knew that Kaneki might grow to hate and resent him and be fully justified in those thoughts.   
  
  
The guilt only hung over his head, however, never truly settling on his shoulders. The nonsense patterns Kaneki traced on his hand in lieu of watching the film with unfocused eyes kept that at bay. Even though it was selfish, irresponsible, and ridiculous, Amon found himself praying for this moment to go on forever.  
  
  
( _Please God, allow me this. **Just this.** Don’t take it away like everything else_ ).


	23. Seeds (Part 1/6)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order for anything to grow, we first need seeds.
> 
> \---
> 
> I'm off hiatus! Most of the editing of this chapter was cutting back on its incredible length, so please be merciful with me and any grammatical or spelling mistakes that I'll spend the next week fixing. I've been avoiding answering comments on this story while I was on hiatus, but I'll be answering them all again! 
> 
> PS. As those who follow me on tumblr are probably aware, this isn't the entire chapter of "Seeds". I've had to split it into 5 parts due to the wordcount exceeding my average by like...a lot.

The deep burgundy colour of Kaneki’s coffee rendered it a near-perfect mirror. He could see every agitated twitch in his jaw, the anxious look in his eyes, and Hide’s satisfied smirk hovering somewhere just to the left of his ear. Hide’s coffee-making skills were still garbage.  
  
  
Even the lush tang of blood ( _how much was even in this cup?)_ and the lingering richness of flesh on his tongue couldn’t completely mask how burnt the beans were. Having his food made for him was…not something he desired. At all. Ever.  
  
  
Dragging himself free from his moody contemplation of his breakfast, Kaneki glanced around the table. Koutarou was alternating between staring at him with an apology stamped across his forehead and jabbing nervously at his French toast. The atmosphere was thick, somehow only failing to affect Hide and his obnoxious humming.  
  
  
Kaneki squinted his eyes, bringing up a hand to massage his temples, trying to ignore the ache building behind them. Today was going to be stressful enough even without a screaming headache.  
  
  
Hide’s fingers brushed over the ends of his shock-white hair, affection and concern lingering in the way the digits clung, and Kaneki suddenly felt sick. The blood is his mouth seemingly curdled as he watched Koutarou’s eyes trace over the path Hide’s fingers had taken. The longing there was sharp before it was slammed behind an iron wall.  
  
  
Koutarou caught his disconcerted stare and smiled at him shyly, glancing away quickly to continue fiddling with his food.  
  
  
**_Food._** It was nothing, but it was…too much… ( _ghoul blood, human blood, there was no difference in texture…only in taste…what was he really eating right now?).  
  
  
_ Kaneki shoved his chair back from the table, tempering it from an ear-piercing screech to a soft scrape. Hide’s hands returned, narrow and feminine, and Kaneki had the idle thought that they could break him. His eyes shifted away from them, away from Koutarou at the table, and towards the long winding hallway.  
  
  
“I’m going to…take a bath.”  
  
  
Did that sound normal? Kaneki couldn’t be sure when he was focusing so hard on the sound of his breathing.  
  
  
“Are you finished with you coffee? I could just bring it to the –“  
  
  
“ ** _No_**. I’m done. Thank you, Hide.”  
  
  
That probably sounded too harsh. Everything sounded harsh to him right now. Or just…too much? He was listening to every little sound, every tick, every movement, anything that could tell him if either of the men in the room were about to chase him down. Neither of them moved, even when Kaneki stopped breathing just to be sure.  
  
  
“I’ll…be done in a bit.”  
  
  
He said, fleeing.

  
~~~~~~

  
  
Hot water ran over his skin. Kaneki could see his nails lightening in colour, just a little bit, as the blood congealing below them began to move in response to the heat. His muscles refused to loosen however, and he glared at the door woodenly. He wanted to be alone but he didn’t trust himself.  
  
  
Emotionally, he felt like he’d been rubbed down with sandpaper. He didn’t want to throw loneliness into the mix.  
  
  
Dishes clattered in the kitchen. The low timber of Koutarou’s voice vibrated with laughter and Hide’s more mellow tones joined it. Kaneki closed his eyes and let himself listen as he slid his ears underwater. Through the throbbing of his own heartbeat, he could hear the fluttering of dry newspaper, the whistle of the kettle, and the steady pattering of feet over tile and carpet.  
  
  
Hide’s words twisted brightly with amusement, dipping low and soaring highly, but their meaning was lost on him. Koutarou’s response was as well; it was only the rumbling of some great slumbering beast.  
  
  
Time slipped away from him although his ears remained open for information. Even here, he couldn’t force himself to relax completely. Kaneki’s thoughts were his own worst enemy. They kept wandering to the day before, to every single tiny and terrible revelation he’d had.  
  
  
Hide and Koutarou had pretended to die on the job. Their lives as they had been were over. They were sitting in the kitchen, talking about some light-hearted thing, all because they were terrified of losing him.  
  
  
The bathwater was making his limbs feel heavy. It didn’t feel so warm anymore.  
  
  
They had…  
  
  
He couldn’t even be properly grateful. Should he even be…  
  
  
Intrusive thoughts only grow worse when you deny them. Kaneki knew this, though it wasn’t like he could just wallow in them forever. His irritation mounted until he fell into old habits. He moved to crack his finger, but the lukewarm joints moved supplely and noiselessly. They did that sometimes, didn’t they?  
  
  
He could fix that.  
  
  
The amount of force he exerted on his index broke the bone. The cracking sound it made was loud and satisfying. The pain of his slowly mending bone was even better ( _still so much slower than he was used to_ ).  
  
  
Sighing, he let his entire face slip under the water. Footsteps approached the room and then slapped against the tile without so much as a polite knock.  
  


 ** _He was naked_**. The thought snapped him out of the depths and right into Hide’s face. He let out a yelp of,  
  
  
“Hide! KNOCK!”  
  
  
And Koutarou made a scandalized noise in the hallway.  
  
  
“Herrrreeeeeeee we go!”  
  
  
Hide cheered, his golden-brown eyes glowing with mischievous glee, as he poured a mixing bowl of chamomile tea bags into the steaming water. Kaneki looked upon them with total disbelief, wiggling his toes and creating a gap in the mass of bags. The tub was quickly turning yellow and seemed likely to stain.  
  
  
“I want you to smell nice when we cuddle later.”  
  
  
Hide announced, shrugging his shoulders and rolling back his sleeves. He wedged his arms into the water, wincing at the heat ( _hadn’t it been cold?_ ) as he stirred it. Kaneki’s brain finally caught up to what was happening and his face darkened in colour.  
  
  
“Hide! Stop! Touching! My! Naked! Body!”  
  
  
He screeched, trying to roll away from Hide’s windmilling arm with accidentally exposing himself through the teabags. The scandalized noise Koutarou made this time would’ve fit in perfectly at a Victorian finishing school and was loud enough to echo through the bathroom. Kaneki halfway wanted to try making it himself, halfway wanted to cry from embarrassment, and definitely wanted to kill his still-grinning friend.  
  
  
“Do you think I can gather some tea into a squirt bottle and just…spray Koutarou down a little? Maybe then he’d smell nice too.”  
  
  
Hide was saying ( _the scandalized sound had taken a vaguely offended twist_ ).  
  
  
“Why can’t I just have a soothing tea bath as well?”  
  
  
Koutarou demanded from somewhere down the hallway.  
  
  
“What!? You pervert!”  
  
  
Hide teasingly called out. His eyes widened in mock-horror as he took a wet hand from the bath and slapped it onto his cheeks. Kaneki groaned in realization at where this was going. He wondered if he could suffocate himself with teabags.  
  
  
“Pervert!? Why do you – I am not - that’s just rude!”  
  
  
Koutarou was such a helpless victim. Kaneki could help him…but he was just **_such_** a helpless victim.  
  
  
“Why wouldn’t you be a pervert!? Suggesting you get into the bath with Kaneki here. You know he’s naked right? Akira was right when she called you a perverted investigator!”  
  
  
That…sounded really interesting. Kaneki would have to keep that line in mind.  
  
  
“I NEVER SAID THAT!”  
  
  
Koutarou screeched. The argument continued even as Kaneki jabbed Hide’s returning hands back out of the water. It built into helpless laughter from a slowly weakening Hide ( _all the easier to push out of the room_ ) and wails of defeat from the disgraced investigator in the kitchen. Kaneki can still make out snippets of it after he’s closed the door and crawled back into the sweetly-scented tub.  
  
  
As pathetic as it was, being cuddled later was an appealing thought.

  
~~~~~~

 

Fully dressed, dried, and with a golden tint to his snow-white hair, Kaneki moved away from his terrified reflection. Yesterday they’d discussed the rules of their time here. He knew what was coming. He wasn’t ready for it, though he was pretty sure he never would be.  
  
  
Kaneki could sense the wobble in his own voice before he even spoke. He stumbled haphazardly into the living room, having tripped over his own toes, and swallowed down the dryness in his throat.  
  
  
“I…uh…when is ‘talk time’ going to be?”  
  
  
‘Talk time’ left his mouth as a wheeze and wow he was doing a really bad job smothering his nerves. He wondered how he’d ever managed to interrogate anyone. The self-deprecating humor of it faded when he remembered how he could just flip a switch and ice over all of his emotions. Luckily, Hide was already answering his question with an analytical look on his face that made the cold shrink back.  
  
  
“They begin at 10am. I figured we should have a regular schedule, since it makes it easier to adjust.”  
  
  
His heart shriveled up at the reminder that they were going to do this **_every day_**. His anxiety was beginning to peak again, to reach the place that it became anger, because why were they doing this to him again? Who would possibly want to be around him after he comes clean about every little thing? How could they possibly understand? It wasn’t fair -  
  
  
Koutarou looked like he was going to have a heart attack. His eyes were wide and glassy and he was running his knuckles over his breastbone harshly enough to wrinkle his suit. Kaneki hadn’t thought it was possible, but he was pretty sure Koutarou was more terrified than he was.  
  


Though it was like dragging himself through broken glass, Kaneki took a long rattling breath. **_He wasn’t alone in this_**. Hide had said everyone had to talk. That they all had issues ( _even though Kaneki was probably the cause of them_ ). Everyone here had secrets.  
  
  
Hide settled himself onto the massive plush couch pointedly. There were only 30 minutes left until they began.  
  
  
Kaneki wandered over to the tiny bookshelf he’d been making his way through. He pulled out a worn copy of some terrible mystery novel ( _no doubt courtesy of Hide_ ) and settled himself on the battered cream-coloured rocking chair beside it. He was just far enough away from the little circle of furniture Hide had assembled to distance himself from the inevitable.  
  
  
Thumbing the pages, Kaneki allowed his mind to drift over phrases he’d already read more than once. Losing himself almost completely in the texture of wood pulp and the white noise of Koutarou and Hide’s chatter, he completely failed to notice their wary fleeting glances.  
  
  
One question threaded through every paragraph of the novel in his hands. What was the main character hiding? What was everyone else hiding?  
  


What secrets did Hide have ( _he’d known him for years…but what did he know **about** him)? _Kaneki had never tried to look at his friend too hard. He’d never pried too deeply. Their relationship had always just been the kind where they didn’t ask questions.  
  
  
_“Nobody is a mind-reader, Johnny boy. We’ve got to ask to know, y’see? That’s why we have these interrogations and why y’come to me with all this curiosity.”  
  
  
“How’d you know where he worked then, sir, or the real colour of his hair? He thought you knew everything about him!”  
  
  
“That’s why I knew everything about him, John. That’s exactly why.”  
  
_

Something about the thought rung hollow to him, bearing within it the implication of a lie.  
  
  
_“Sir?”  
  
  
“Relationships are funny things, kiddo. Everyone has expectations…”  
  
_

Hide smiles at him then, a mask of geniality firmly in place, and Kaneki finds himself smiling back in the exact same way ( _there’s fear behind his eyes too_ ).  
_  
  
“Expectations change things. They change us.”  
  
_

Was his relationship with Hide always going to stay the same? It had already changed, hadn’t it ( _he had changed_ )? They had never asked questions…he knew that wasn’t entirely what it seemed.  
  


_“What I’m trying to say, you see, is not **everything** needs to be said out loud…”_

  
Kaneki pulled out paper and pen and wrote down the question on the tip of his tongue. He stuffed his doubts back into his pocket under Hide’s watchful gaze. He then removed himself from his novel ( _he’d only been half-reading it anyway_ ) and sat himself down onto a loveseat near the heart of the room. His motion signaled Koutarou over and the nervous wreck collapsed into an armchair.  
  
  
Pulse racing and fingertips tingling, Kaneki settled himself in for the long haul. The conversation was about to begin.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
“Is there anything anyone wants to talk about? A beginning statement, questions, anything goes.”  
  
  
Hide somehow had the entire couch to himself. The way he had positioned himself placed him at the center of their attention. It was a good place for their de facto discussion leader to be. He made his query carefully, turning his eyes from Kaneki to Koutarou and back again, keeping them all locked into this **_thing_** they were trying to do.  
  


When the silence stretched out, Hide twitched a little, but then let his lips curved benignly. His legs crossed as he leaned forward and Kaneki could see a statement hanging from his lips. It surprised him then, when Koutarou’s spine straightened rigidly and he raised his hand to speak like a schoolboy.  
  
  
“Yes…?”  
  
  
Hide winced. It was miniscule, but he winced. He hadn’t been expecting this either, then. Koutarou hadn’t clued in to the fact that Hide’s “yes” was an invitation to say his piece. His lips were set in a firm line and he was staring directly at Kaneki. There was a fire in gaze that held Kaneki completely still, his lingering anxiety curling and uncurling in his belly.  
  
  
“Yes, Koutarou, what did you want to say?”  
  
  
Koutarou’s gaze was unwavering and so was Kaneki’s, both of them only inclining their ears towards Hide. The tension in the room crawled its way even higher when the hard line of Koutarou’s lips softened and the determined set of his face began to ebb away with the earnest confusion of his question.  
  
  
“Ken, do you mind if I ask you something?”  
  
  
His tone was gentle and supplicating. Kaneki found he could shift easily under the weight of his gaze now that he had permission to say “no”. The prospect of whatever Koutarou wanted to know was still daunting, however Kaneki wouldn’t refuse him without first hearing him out.  
  
  
He ran a hand through his hair, releasing a puff of chamomile odour, and he breathed it in gratefully.  
  
  
“Go ahead, Koutarou. This is something that’s been bothering you for awhile, isn’t it?”  
  
  
Koutarou’s foot jumped violently in surprise. Hide snorted and then his eyebrows lifted a fraction. Kaneki could see the gears turning in his head from the corner of his eye.  
  
  
“Why did you spare my life when we first met? Every single time we’ve met, you’ve protected me. Why?”  
  
  
Koutarou asked. Though the question was positive in nature, it was also a loaded gun. Hide’s gaze flickered over Kaneki’s body, lingering on his slightly drawn-up knees, and Kaneki made an effort to relax a bit ( _and to stop watching him_ ). He wasn’t sure if he really understood the question – it was making him feel defensive.  
  
  
“I thought I already told you that? I didn’t want to kill a person.”  
  
  
He replied, wondering if he had appeared to be something so terrible back then. Now he could understand, but back then, soaked in the rain and easily mistakable for a ghoul-wannabe?  
  
  
“I tried to kill you. I could have killed you. I could have called someone to kill you. **_I was supposed to._** You didn’t even really hurt me.”  
  
  
Koutarou pressed, rubbing self-consciously at his shoulder. Kaneki desperately squashed the desire to lick his lips and bit at them instead.  
  
  
“You mistook me for ‘some punk who is pretending to be a ghoul and giving you a lot of work’ remember? You tried to let me off easy. Then you kept talking to me like I was a person, albeit a little angrily.”

  
Koutarou dropped his gaze to his hands and squeezed them into tight fists.

  
“I wondered if I could reason with you. At the time I believed…that only I understood ‘both worlds’. I thought I could show you that not all ghouls were bad. Since you didn’t kill me, call someone to kill me, or try to hunt me down, I think I might’ve…”

  
Kaneki was getting a little embarrassed. It was difficult to connect himself now to the boy who had called out insults to Koutarou in the rain. It was difficult to connect himself with the idea of being a ‘bridge between worlds’ or anything as heroic as that.  
  
  
“Why did you keep me safe after that, then?”  
  
  
The tone Koutarou was using was oddly fragile. Within himself Kaneki felt the urge to **_answer well_** rising. This was something Koutarou needed to understand, even if Kaneki didn’t himself.

  
“I haven’t stopped believing that letting someone die is wrong. No matter who you might’ve turned out to be later, I don’t think I ever could’ve justified your death to myself.”

  
He paused there.

  
There was a conflict of interests beginning to make itself known. Kaneki had let…unsavory types fall. He let Yamori descend into Hell. The half-ghoul failures he had eaten were also once human. The members of the Ghoul Restaurant…well, he didn’t really regret them. He wasn’t sure if he believed letting any of them die was wrong.

  
Hide was watching him. He felt his hand drifting to his chin against his will and Hide’s eyes trailed after it. Kaneki dug his fingertips into his jaw, pressing and rolling out the tension lurking there.

  
“I’m sorry, I might need to take that back.”  
  
  
He said flatly. Koutarou froze in place, his gaze fixed on the floor.  
  
  
“There are some people I think needed to die. I know I don’t have the right to decide that for them, however I feel like choices need to be made when they are presented to us. You…I never wanted you to die. Even with the opinions I have now, I don’t think I would have been a threat to you.”  
  
  
The thread he’d been trying to hold onto was escaping him ( _answer well, dammit_ ). He hadn’t answered the entire question yet and uncomfortably looked away from Koutarou’s lost expression.  
  
  
“May I have a moment to gather my thoughts?”  
  
  
He requested, refusing to face Hide ( _asking for permission bothered him_ ). Hide nodded at him decisively. He almost looked like he wanted to frown. Kaneki let his eyes fall shut.

  
He left them shut as various battles poured out into his imagination. He could see them in the greyscale vision of his beast, the red-tint of his insanity, the sharp clarity of his ruthless calculations, and in the blurred lines that accompanied his unplanned motions. He played back each moment he’d gravitated around Koutarou whenever he’d met him, placing him at his back, and defending him.

  
Once he was sure of what he wanted to say, Kaneki let himself stare directly into Koutarou’s guarded eyes.

  
“I chose to protect you because I cared about you. I decided you were special a long time ago, maybe even when we first met, and couldn’t shake free of you.”

  
Koutarou’s guard was slipping. Amazed disbelief was taking its place as he leaned forward, his hands gripping his knees to prevent him from overbalancing.  


“When I first fought you I knew you were the type to fight until you died. You would have tried to beat me to death with the shattered pieces of your weapon if you really thought I was a threat. I confused you enough that you didn’t try to, though you still didn’t stand down. The things you said, ‘this world is wrong’, never stopped haunting me.”

  
The arm of the loveseat groaned as he bent towards Koutarou, mirroring his position. He could now feel the burning intensity that characterized their every meeting ( _until they came here_ ).  
  
  
It was comfortable.  
  
  
It only asked him to be completely raw and honest. It demanded he let the fire lick his bones clean.

  
“Then we met again. That time, I tried to fight you and you stopped me. You took care of me. You gave me strength. ** _You understood me._** Do you know how crazy that was? How much you risked for that? How much I risked just letting you touch me? I couldn’t ignore you after that, if I ever could before.”  
  


Kaneki still felt the sharp pang of despair that had swallowed him when he had tried to shatter his quinque and Koutarou had begged him to stop. He had lost all sense of purpose then, faced with a helpless enemy that didn’t even want to hurt him.  
  
  
He could still remember his stiff and freezing digits clamping down on Koutarou’s warm skin as he was carried and soothed. God, that fool had tried to give him life advice. Then Kaneki had cried into his suit and fallen asleep.  
  
  
**_It was ridiculous_**. It was so…  
  
  
“Can I ask you a question, Koutarou?”  
  
  
In the wake of everything that had happened afterwards, Kaneki had never really gotten to see how **_stupidly borderline suicidal_** everything Koutarou had done was. His words had stayed with him, but when he had awoken on Banjou’s back and abandoned everything he had once known, the context had been lost.

Koutarou quirked his head and gestured with one hand for Kaneki to continue.

  
“Why did you help me back then? The first time…”

  
He wished he could sit closer to the man before him. Kaneki wanted to take note of every flittering micro-expression that crossed Koutarou’s face. He was such an honest man that every twitch in his face conveyed some part of his reply before he even spoke.

  
“Your words from when we first met, that you didn’t want to be a murderer, never left my mind. There are reasons for that, however I don’t think I am prepared to disclose them. Uhh…”

  
Koutarou paused, fiddling with his cufflinks and furrowing his brows.

  
“I could tell what happened to you. My subordinate killed the ghoul who tortured you. I found them in the room he…there were signs of…I…”

  
Kaneki flicked his fingers up and outwards, indicating that he understood. He also didn’t want to talk about that room.

  
“When you first attacked me, you were only defending the others. You looked like you’d tried to kill a part of yourself, like the officers who have seen Hell, and you were using it to protect them when you were afraid and in pain. When I saw that…I just… ** _I wanted you to be_ _wel_ _l_**.”

  
There was a hint of unshed tears in Koutarou’s eyes, however he did not avert his open gaze from Kaneki's. It was strange, to feel like he was being embraced by someone who wasn’t touching him. It made a lump form in Kaneki’s throat.  
  
  
He buried his powerful emotions or utilized them as a tool. Koutarou’s straightforward confession ( _his honest connection with his own feelings_ ) was calling upon the tiny undirtied part of himself that cried in Yamori’s playroom ( _weak...so weak_ ).  
  
  
**_It hurt.  
_**  
  
Koutarou seemed hurt by it too. However, perhaps because he could see Kaneki’s fragility, he plowed forwards.  
  
  
“You know though, when I first decided to protect you, I didn’t realize I’d be stepping on someone’s toes.”  
  
  
Kaneki sniffled, pulling his vulnerability back inside of himself neatly, and pursed his lips in thought ( _who…of course_ ).  
  
  
“Banjou.”  
  
  
He whispered, a nostalgic smile unrolling across his mouth and cheeks. His self-proclaimed shield. One of his best friends.  
  
  
Koutarou grinned in response, clearly having taken a liking to Banjou back then.  
  
  
“He tried to beat me up, tripped, and then wept like a dying whale. It was the most painfully awkward thing I’ve ever experienced.”  
  
  
Kaneki lifted his hands in defeat and exasperation. Leave it to Banjou to kill the serious mood of this conversation ( _he missed him_ ).  
  
  
“He called himself your shield…he was actually jealous of the fact that I was carrying you around. He…pfft…told me I had no right to call you by name. It was like running into the butler and young master of a rich household.”  
  
  
Koutarou stated, cheeks twitching in amusement. Kaneki’s throat ached with the laughter trying to escape him. Banjou was such a beautiful friend. He’d thought far too much of him, but Kaneki couldn’t help but be endeared by his steadfast loyalty.

  
“When I handed you over to him, his whole demeanor changed though. He was ready to protect you from anything and everything. This Banjou seems like an incredibly good man.”

  
Koutarou's nose scrunched up when he smiled affectionately. Somewhat absentmindedly, Kaneki thought that he wanted Banjou to see that smile ( _he didn’t realize the way his own eyes crinkled lovingly at the thought_ ).  
  
  
“He is. Banjou’s one of the best people I know. He’s got the heart of a leader, even though he can’t tell, and his people love him to death. I hope he’s – “

  
Kaneki cut himself off ( _he didn’t want to ruin a perfectly good moment_ ).  
  
  
The wave of intensity between himself and Koutarou had passed. Now Kaneki was acutely aware of Hide’s presence in the room. He turned his head to him, examining the absent way Hide’s feet tapped at the ground ( _he was nervous_ ).  
  
  
“Hey ‘Neki, could you tell us more about you friends? I want to know.”  
  
  
He said, something dark and interested lurking in his eyes.

 

~~~~~~

  
  
Entire hours passed while Nagachika guided Kaneki through story after story about Anteiku, Banjou’s crew, HySy, Helter Skelter, and Tsukiyama’s antics. He placed a fresh mug of coffee in Kaneki’s hands between breaths, ruffling the storyteller’s hair as he did so.  
  
  
Amon could only sit back in awe as Nagachika blocked off every self-deprecating path Kaneki’s tales could take, rerouting him with questions about this person or that person, keeping the tone of the conversation light-hearted enough that Kaneki dropped his walls completely.  
  
  
Once Kaneki unwound, Amon breath caught in his chest. He was in the mood to tell stories. ** _It seemed like he born to._** His analysis of his friends was nuanced, full of metaphors, examples, and a soul-deep outpouring of affection.  
  


Amon felt like he’d met the people Kaneki was talking about. He could almost see the colour of their hair ( _royal purple for Tsukiyama, sun tanned skin for Hinami, and gossamer for the shop manager_ ). He could nearly hear the sound of their laughter ( _Nishiki’s abrupt bray, Touka’s loud and unrestrained chortles, and Uta’s silent huffs_ ).  
  
  
He now knew that Touka was brave. Not only did she face down her enemies, she also stared herself in the face, acknowledging her strengths and weaknesses with the determination of a survivor. Nishiki’s bruised ego and ‘jack-ass with a heart of gold’ love for his girlfriend was engraved into Amon’s memory. Hinami’s ever-growing thirst for knowledge and adoration of birds made his heart melt.  
  
  
Kaneki recited the shop manager and Yomo’s lessons with such passionate understanding that Amon could picture them best of all. A withered old man who had learned from every kind of pain imaginable and his right-hand man, the stoic and handsome raven whose socially awkward behaviour belied a well of compassion and hard-learned respect for life.  
  
  
“You are amazing!”  
  
  
He uttered breathlessly.  
  
  
Kaneki had just finished telling them about Uta’s intricate tattoo work and his perspectives on humanity ( _which admittedly flew over Amon’s head_ ). There was a contented look on both Nagachika and Kaneki’s faces ( _they tilted towards each other identically, both in the slope of their body and of their mouths_ ).  
  
  
At first he had thought Nagachika had asked Kaneki for stories to put him at ease. Then he had thought it was pure curiosity. Now however, he realized that both were probably true. The way Kaneki spoke was wonderful and his happy hum of acknowledgement to his statement was even better.  
  
  
“Tell me more about Anteiku – you said that you had a bird?”

  
He cried out with a combination of guilt and glee in his mouth. He was delighted to discover that Kaneki had this ramshackle family, that there are so many ghouls that share his ideology, and that there had been non-hunting ghouls. However, these tales came at the price of Amon’s acute awareness of how he’s affected their stories ( _he ruined them_ ).

  
Hinami was an orphan who appeared when Kaneki’s hair was still black ( _that day in the rain_ ). Anteiku was the coffee shop the CCG destroyed. Owl…was probably the shop manager. Though all of Kaneki’s words stemmed from happiness, Amon could see the stains of melancholy and loss soaked into them.  
  
  
He’d been so blind. **_He was still so blind.  
  
  
_** Needless to say, it was difficult to process. He tucked away his horror, his regrets, and many other things into the back of his mind, letting himself be suspended in a memory of a bird named “Loser”. Kaneki’s delicate long fingers danced in the air as he spoke out every treasured memory, illustrating how badly he wanted to reach out to those times and take them back.  
  
  
When he was done, resting his weight against the back of the loveseat and smiling stupidly at the ceiling, Amon said what was on his mind.  
  
  
“It sounds like you were happy there.”  
  
  
There’s an effervescent quality to it, but it really does sound like Kaneki was happy. They share a glance, mirthful and nostalgic, and the spark of it crawls into Amon’s heart and makes a home there. The person before him was **_so brigh_** t.  
  
  
Unexpectedly, his attention is pulled away by the extension of a single finger. Nagachika was the owner of it, indicating that he had something to say. Lulled by the warmth in the air, Amon sees Kaneki beckon to his friend, and Amon finds himself tilting forward to listen.  
  
  
“I’m jealous of that. Were you happier at Anteiku than you ever were at home?”  
  
  
There is a ‘with me’ buried in that statement. Amon heard it loud and clear. He’d caught glimpses of Nagachika’s loneliness before, during his frantic escapades and in between the pages of his many plans of attack, though he hadn’t paid it much heed. Nagachika’s loneliness only ever had the quality of obsession in his eyes…  
  
  
However, now he wondered if he’d been wrong. Kaneki and Nagachika were childhood friends. They moved around each other like 'couples so old they’re nearly the same person do'. The Nagachika he had known was a person with a rift in their heart. That kind of thing is deadly and frightening, but Amon could begin to understand it when he looked at Nagachika’s smooth facial expression and curled toes ( _he looked placid even though he was afraid. He was always pretending_ ).  
  
  
He came to understand even more when Kaneki’s knuckles turned as white as his hair. The mug resting against his palm shattered under the pressure of his hand clenching. Crimson blood poured freely from his cuts in the beat of silence that followed.  
  
  
Then there was a clink as a piece of porcelain was shoved out of Kaneki’s skin by his body’s regeneration and the click of a switch being flipped.

 

-POV Change-

  
Kaneki felt a profound sense of loss.  
  
  
There was a clatter, then a click.  
  
  
Next, he felt nothing.  
  
  
“I carried my phone with me everywhere I went.”  
  
  
He began.   
  
  
When he was like this, he knew exactly where his words and his kagune would cut.  
  
  
“It was always turned off because I couldn’t bear to read your messages.”  
  
  
When he was like this he was frightening. He was living up to the title of monster.  
  
  
“Every night I’d turn it on, just for a moment, and read the subject lines though.”  
  
  
Would they leave? What did it matter? It was the empty abyss or the unknown for him.  
  
  
He knew the abyss wouldn’t break him.  
  
  
“I did it to make sure that if you ever asked for help, if you ever needed me, I could be there.”  
  
  
**_It might break somebody else though._**  
  
  
“I did it because if I actually read any of those messages I would run right back to you. I would leave everyone else I loved to drown in the situations ** _I_ ** brought to their doorstep. I would let Aogiri burn the world. I would let Kanou do whatever he wanted because I would be back with you and I would be **_happy_** again.”  
  
  
In the abyss he wasn’t able to feel all the things he was supposed to. It reminded him of the beast. If he dipped too deeply into it or relied on it too greatly it would open up a hole in him too big to close.  
  
  
“If Touka never threatened to murder you, my pitiful resolve probably would’ve broken. If I wasn’t so afraid of losing you, I would’ve told you everything. I would’ve gotten you killed.”  
  
  
He had been so afraid. The only thing he had wanted in the beginning was to walk beside Hide forever.  
  
  
Even though there was so much more in his life now, he still wanted that.  
  
  
“I tried to pry my kidney out with a knife, Hide. I tried to do it because my first thought was ‘I’ve become a monster’ and my second was ‘I can’t walk beside Hide anymore’.”  
  
  
Hide’s pallor was turning green. Koutarou was glancing between the two of them with horror and resignation. Kaneki wondered if this was really all it would take to drive him away.  
 

He thought of Suttree: ‘ _there are no absolutes in human misery and things can always get worse._ ’  
 

He might as well keep going.

  
“I prioritized you over the safety of everyone I knew. It makes me feel filthy. I even prioritize your safety over your happiness because I thought you could just move on without me. I’m nothing, really, in the end.”  
  
  
He wasn’t really supposed to admit that. The walls of the abyss shook and so did his body ( _they one and the same_ ).  
  
  
“You were the only person I wanted to kill for. I was half-crazed with hunger, but I would have killed Nishiki for harming you. I still remember him saying ‘I’ll die, I’ll die’ and I remember not wanting to stop.”  
  
  
Hide’s chest rose and fell hurriedly. His fingers and toes were twitching. Somehow, his illness seemed to be blurring with excitement.  
  
  
“Anteiku made me happy because it gave me a purpose when I thought I'd lost you. What good did Anteiku even do me now that I'm falling apart?”  
  
  
Maybe it was because Hide and Koutarou were both still in the room long after any sane person would have left. Or maybe it was because he’d fallen too deep into the abyss. Maybe it was anything and everything. The moment Kaneki called himself out for falling apart, he felt the trickle of sadness make its way in.  
  
  
“Once pathetic, always pathetic! Who says I’ve ever been happy without you, Hide!?”  
  
  
He finished. With crystalline clarity he recalled the night he’d actually read Hide’s messages. He could pinpoint the exact moment he chose to keep lying to himself to protect his own misery. He’d avoided meeting Hide again to drown in the feelings that drove him to change the world.  
  
  
**_He was scared of being happy._**

  
-POV Change-

  
  
Amon was shell-shocked by the cold clinical ferocity with which Kaneki delivered his confession. The pieces of Nagachika’s feral love were falling into place inside his mind. He couldn’t find the words to describe it well, but the instinct was there. The two of them were intensely codependent. They actually **_needed_** each other.  
  
  
Nagachika had that funny look in his eyes again. It was the one that freaked Amon out. He was too close to pushing Kaneki to keep talking. Before he could consider whether or not it was a good idea or how the Hell he was supposed to fit into Kaneki’s life when they were like this, Amon’s body moved.  
  
  
He gently pried Kaneki’s hands from the remains of the mug they were locked around. He held in the shiver that rolled over his spine when he fell under Kaneki’s empty scrutiny.  
  
  
“It’s unfortunate that you have had to feel so much sadness and fear. However, you cannot help how you feel. You have suffered and that does not make you pathetic.”  
  
  
He ran the pads of his fingers along the heart lines of Kaneki’s hands. They would be covered in scars if he wasn’t a ghoul.  
  
  
“Shinohara told me this: **_don’t kill the times you were happy because your sadness was noble_**. Your happiness isn’t pathetic either.”  
  
  
Amon whispered. Kaneki’s knuckles were still white and Amon placed a feather-light kiss to them. The skin underneath his lips was frigid enough that he wanted to linger, however Kaneki twitched away. He quickly drew back, keeping his head lowered to shield his expression, and rested on his heels at Kaneki’s feet.  
  
  
“I was doing so well…I rewrote so much…the pure me…”  
  
  
Kaneki was mumbling to himself. He pressed the knuckles that Amon had kissed to his forehead like a blessing. Amon can see his confusion and feels somewhat bad for taking advantage of his empathy to teach him a lesson in such a delicate moment.  
  
  
Shinohara had really said those words to him once. They had changed him, perhaps not as much as Shinohara would’ve liked, but Amon could still inject the emotions he gave them into his voice.  
  
  
He didn’t know what to do from this point forward, and so he gave Nagachika a hard and pointed look.  
  
  
“We haven’t been very…verbally honest…in the past. I’m sorry…I don’t really know what’s appropriate to say out loud. When it’s like this it’s different then you just reading my emotions…things can be misunderstood. I’ve always known how to twist words and with you I’ve never had to twist…it’s a relief to not want to…and so I’ve always used ‘telling’ sparingly, I think, and we both have things to hide. We need to say these things though, in order to make everything clear and to set boundaries. But I think…I think I crossed a line here. I’m sorry.”  
  
  
Amon watched Nagachika cringe, weighing his words with varying degrees of honesty and manipulation ( _so this ‘transparency’ thing was hard on him too, eh?_ ).  
  
  
“Kaneki, people with depression often have good times. It makes you think the depression is gone. It makes the times you fall apart so much worse. You haven’t failed yourself just because being here is difficult for you. You can lash out at me sometimes. It’s going to take time to address the root of the problem – we’re here for you.”  
  
  
Nagachika placated Kaneki. The long bangs of Kaneki’s hair shivered as he nodded. He didn’t seem to want to look at them at the moment. Out of respect, Amon inclined his face away, mapping the swirling patterns of thread on the carpet in his mind.  
  
  
“Can I touch you?”  
  
  
Nagachika whispered, sounding serene and sad, like he’d accept any answer. Though Amon doesn’t hear any response or see any movement, Nagachika seems to have understood something. He moves over to the loveseat gingerly, then slings his arm around Kaneki’s shoulders, resting his head against Kaneki’s. It’s a private moment that Amon slinks away from. He settles himself back into the armchair with a seed of jealousy in his hear ( _he wished he could touch Kaneki so thoughtlessly_ ).  
  
  
“Were you really never happy, ‘Neki?”  
  
  
Even though it is a question, Nagachika’s tone makes it sound like a statement of disbelief. Kaneki’s voice is shaky when he responds.  
  
  
“You made me happy a lot. So did my books, school, our old high school friends, rabbits, moving out, and taking my life into my own hands. Work made me happy. Professor Delaney made me happy when she sent my essays into contests because I was so ‘impassioned’. I was probably very very close to being content with my life, **_my whole life_** , when it taken away. It’s…hard to look at the past. Sometimes it’s hard to look at you.”  
  
  
Koutarou can’t be sure how Nagachika felt about that, since there are no further words and he isn’t looking. For a long time there are no words at all.

  
~~~~~~

  
  
Hide feels like he must’ve dozed off for a bit. There’s a dull pain in his arm ( _Kaneki had been leaning again it_ ) and his eyes ache. It’s quiet except for the distant ticking of a clock in one of the bedrooms ( _he can’t remember who he gave it to_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki is awake and drawing swirling patterns on a folded piece of paper. They appear to meet in the middle and Hide concludes that it’s a maze. He wonders how Kaneki made it, how he managed to create little things like this, and then the final question he wanted to ask hits him.  
  
  
He searches the room visually and manages to spot Koutarou staring at the ceiling. He seems to be lost in thought but Hide’s question is burning his throat and he knows it is the right time to ask it. It’s the question that will tie everything together for the day, all the pain and frustration and fears everyone will have to wonder about later when they are alone.  
  
  
Hide is a little afraid to pose his inquiry to Kaneki, however. He feels like he’s spent too much time forcing Kaneki to apologize for himself today, like he’s been feeding him negative emotions ( _knowing exactly how he soaks them up_ ), and he’s worried Kaneki is going to close himself off.  
  
  
Still, he understands that with any successful therapy comes some degree of emotional manipulation. Things that are hurtful are helpful too. **_He knows this_** , and so he asks.  
  
  
“Kaneki,”  
  
  
He rouses his friend from his drawing, drawing his attention to his face, and Koutarou snaps out of his reverie.  
  
  
“How were you changed? I think I’ve figured out most of it, but…”  
  
  
He trails off, not sure how to explain his need for confirmation.  
  


Kaneki takes a few seconds to examine his face, to let their years with each other speak when Hide can’t, and then smiled tiredly.  
  
  
“I’m going to get angry telling this story. Can you stay next to me?”  
  
  
He requests. Hide’s chest swells with relief and he nods quickly. He tightens his arm around Kaneki further when he sees he heavy way Koutarou and Kaneki look at each other. Koutarou also nods at Kaneki, an affirmation of some silent pact, and Kaneki begins his story.  
  
  
He tells them about how he woke up in the hospital with a new ‘kidney’, how bad his hospital food tasted, the descent into realization, meeting Touka, and then meeting Kanou. He explains exactly what Kanou did to him, gripping Hide’s arms tightly ( _to remind himself that he hadn’t lost everything_ ), and anger shakes him when he spits out the finer details of Kanou’s experimentation.  
  
  
There are others like him. It disgusts him to very core of his being and Hide’s heart rate increases with the venom in Kaneki’s voice.  
  


Finally, he tells them about his file on Kanou, his delivery system for it, and his backup plans in case of failure. It’s more detail than Hide expected to get from him. Pride takes root and flourishes inside of Hide in the face of Kaneki’s wits. Koutarou seems almost deliriously happy that the CCG might actually be useful for something.  
  
  
Of course, both of them also feel the same intense rage licking at them. Hide is sure Koutarou’s is more moral than his; he’s furious for Kaneki. He doesn’t know the others. They don’t mean much to him.  
  
  
His assumption is proven right when Koutarou opens his mouth.  
  
  
“The two others you mentioned – what did they look like?”  
  
  
Kaneki’s description seals the deal. Koutarou verifies that he knows the twins, the Yasuhisa’s, and gives them a rundown of their brief history together. He expresses his sadness at what happened to them, looking troubled, and Hide can just taste the martyr complex coming on.  
  
  
“I wonder if I could have done more for them.”  
  
  
Koutarou sounds horribly guilty. Hide can’t help but wonder how someone as influential as Shinohara could’ve spent so much time with Koutarou and barely make a dent in his need to **_blame himself for everything_**. Hide is pretty sure that he became a better person after spending two minutes in the same room as Shinohara.  
  
  
Kaneki releases a laugh so dry it could evaporate a lake. He sits up straighter, leaning less on Hide’s pins-and-needles arm, and circulation returns to him in a blissful way.  
  
  
“You can’t blame yourself for what happens to other people, right? Isn’t that the lesson we’re all learning here together?”  
  
  
Kaneki points out, some of his infamous sass worming its way into the conversation. He was probably getting worn out fast.  
  
  
“It seems like you were friends, right? That probably did a lot to ease their loneliness. They called Kanou ‘Papa’ and Tsukiyama told me a story about them – it seems that incurable loneliness drove them to him. Even though you couldn’t have saved them, you made them hurt less, I think.”  
  
  
The last of Kaneki’s energy seems to leave him at that. Koutarou has a faraway look in his eyes and Hide remembers rumors about an investigator raised in an orphanage. Eventually, Koutarou sighs in understanding.  
  
  
“This information will be hard for me to let go.”  
  
  
He admits, scrubbing his hands over his face dejectedly. Hide stares at him in disbelief ( _he knew he was an idiot, but really!?)_. He shares a horrendously offended glare with Kaneki and they both puff themselves up.  
  
  
“ ** _You don’t have to!_** ”  
  
  
They burst out together.  
  
  
“We’ll remember this together. We’ll do something about this together. This man is a monster who needs to be stopped.”  
  
  
Kaneki states firmly, glaring at Koutarou’s slumped over form. Though he knew Koutarou was slow on the uptake, Hide still can’t believe how long it takes him to realize what they’re offering him ( _they’d worked together for how long?_ ).  
  
  
“We’re getting into something we can’t talk about yet.”  
  
  
Hide reminds all of them, seeing is opportunity to close the conversation for the day. Kaneki seems agitated and he cracks a finger. The sound is awful ( _bone-grinding_ ). Kaneki returns to staring a hole into the walls.  
  
  
“Thank you for your concern. I can relate to what this means to you.”  
  
  
Huh?  
  
  
Hide eyed Koutarou in confusion ( _how could he relate?_ ). Koutarou peeked at his judgmental expression and rubbed at his thighs.  
  
  
“The academy kids were like siblings to me even if I kept my distance. It’s because we were all in the same situation. I can se why Kaneki feels responsible for the Yasuhisa’s.”  
  
  
Koutarou explained uncomfortably. Kaneki tilted his head forward, drawing up his knees to rest his forehead against them.  
  
  
“They called me big brother.”  
  
  
He murmured. Hide’s neck and jaw tensed up as he felt the conversation begin to slide down a slippery slope. He was about to move it along when Koutarou spoke up again.  
  
  
“You’re surrounded by a gaggle of wannabe children. You’re a bit like a mother duck.”  
  
  
Surprisingly, this earned a tired laugh from Kaneki ( _back in high school they used to call him mama-neki_ ). Hide raised an appraising eyebrow at Koutarou, who flushed hotly ( _he could almost hear Koutarou defending his sense of humour_ ). When the blush fades away, Hide can make out a proud expression on his face.  
  
  
Hide is a little impressed too; it’s not every day you get to tell Kaneki something you love about him without drawing his direct negative attention to it.  
  
  
Speaking of Kaneki, he was clearly extremely tired and reaching his limit of touchy time. The fact that Kaneki wanted him to let go stung a bit, however he also understood why he wanted it, so he decided to finish things up.  
  
  
“Alright. I’d say that’s a good end to the conversation for today, wouldn’t you?”  
  
  
Amon isn’t quite all there, however he flashes a thumbs up at Hide. Kaneki mumbles some kind of assent into the arm of the loveseat. They all drag themselves to their feet, dispersing to opposite ends of the apartment. It’s time for them to digest talk alone.  
  
  
Hide throws a contemplative glance at his open door. He knows that Kaneki’s door is open too. Amon is still in the living room, reading newspapers in clear view of his room.  
  
  
So maybe they are ‘not-quite-alone’. What of it?

  
  
~~~~~~

 

That evening they all converged naturally into the living room after dinner. There was nothing to talk about and everyone was wrestling with their own nasty thoughts. However, Hide let music spill from his headphones into the open air and no one stopped him. Kaneki read his book and Amon spun a pen over his thumb distractedly.  
  


Hide didn’t get his promised cuddle time for the day, but they all sat together until it was very late at night, soaking in the company of other people. That was enough for Hide.  
  
  
He just hoped it was enough for them too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hide is such a complex character even though we know so little about him. I've worked and reworked his character and motivations so many times that I'm scared I've lost track of him. For some further insight on his and Kaneki's relationship here and some of the complications that are going to arise in this arc, I suggest checking out Daisy Chain (part of this series!). It's actually complete so you don't need to worry about my update speed.
> 
> I always update in the dead of night. Thanks for reading the latest instalment you beautiful unbelievably dedicated people. I don't deserve you, but I love you anyway.


	24. Seeds (Part 2/6)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeds require a combination of light and darkness to grow. They must be buried and take root before they can break free.

Purple clouds floated in a nauseatingly pulsing sky. They were engorged in a threatening fashion, bringing up childhood memories of being pelted by hail and running screeching into his home. Though he knew such the clouds could only be toxic, Kaneki longed to stretch his wings and scrape it with his talons until it tore open.

  
The longing grew and grew. It swelled his body with its intensity, until he felt himself combust.  
  
  
The fire at the tips of his vision was golden. It was clean and pure. It could reduce him to ash…and save him…allow him to start again…  
  
  
A delicate white hand, larger than anything he’d ever seen, reached down from above. It took shape from thousands of violet droplets. He hadn’t noticed the rain, but it was already falling. It caressed his face and leaked underneath his skin.  
  
  
Chuffing left his throat as his lungs struggled under a heavy pressure. There was a rustling in his ear, a scraping behind his eyes, and his stomach churned.

  
The blaze running over his body sputtered and twisted. He knew. He knew exactly what it would turn into **. He knew he knew he knew he knew.  
  
**

...  
  
  
Kaneki wrenched himself free from his blanket nest. Sweat slicked his arms and made the damp sheets cling to him. The fabric could just as easily be skin with how warm it was and the thought repulsed him horribly.  
  


The sensation of anything touching him right now was too much. He peeled away the last layers of bedding from his body and focused on controlling his breathing.  
  
  
A grumbling sound attracted his attention to the ground with a dizzying sense of déjà vu. Koutarou was unconscious on his hardwood floors. His left cheek was smooshed flat and his eyebrows were knitted. 

  
It occurred to Kaneki that Koutarou’s room must be very close to his. That or the investigator was incredibly well attuned to the sounds he made while locked in nightmares. He preferred his first assumption to his second ( _it had such uncomfortable implications_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki had been falling asleep with relative ease. The knowledge that there were people nearby, people who wouldn’t hurt him, relaxed him enough to lose consciousness. However, fear never truly left his side.  
  
  
Before, it was just another uninvited guest, something he could strangle with his own hands. Lately, it slept in his bed next to him. It had been doing that since he stopped barricading his doors.  
  
  
His gaze flickered to the nightstand, the only loose piece of furniture other than the bed, and Kaneki had to squeeze his eyes shut against the urge to shove it into the doorway. Hide would notice, Koutarou would notice, and they’d have to talk about it. Koutarou would also be trapped in the room with him ( _he almost wanted that_ ).  
  
  
“The bed is wood…why…is it wood. Don’t like…”  
  
  
Koutarou was complaining from his position on the ground. Instinctively, Kaneki reached down to him and ruffled his hair. The comment had amused him, reminded him of Banjou, and the gesture had just come naturally. It filled Kaneki with a combination of shame and terror that froze his fingers in place.  
  
  
Koutarou hummed deep in his throat and chest contentedly. He clearly enjoyed the contact. A flicker of guilt held Kaneki back from flinching away. Instead, he continued his ministrations, losing himself in thought while Koutarou slept on.  
  
  
It bothered him that Koutarou could touch him so intimately, though little things like shoulders brushing made Kaneki’s stomach cramp with panic. Kaneki bit his lip and scraped his nails against Koutarou’s scalp ( _the way that Kaneki preferred having his head massaged_ ).  
  
  
He liked Koutarou. He trusted him too. He didn’t understand where this fear of domesticity came from. Hide could hold his hand, touch his shoulders, and run his fingers through his hair without eliciting any negative responses ( _a part of him whispered ‘for how long’ and he crushed it ruthlessly_ ). Could he let Hide carry him around though? Or pin him to a wall, kneel before him, or fight by his side?  
  
  
Conflicted, he ground his teeth into his cheek. Koutarou made a wuffling sound when his fingers took up tugging at strands of hair. Properly reminded of the presence of another in his room, Kaneki rested both of his hands of his lap.  
  
  
“Koutarou.”  
  
  
He called, trying to keep the tone both light and forceful. His guest repeated the wuffling from earlier and curled into a tight ball. It looked ridiculous enough that Kaneki was tempted to laugh, though he’d really like to get changed.  
  
  
“Koutarou, wake up. How did you even manage to sleep on the floor?”  
  
  
More wuffling. There was also a grumble that sounded suspiciously like ‘nOoOooo’.  
  
  
“Investigator Amon Koutarou, may I have you attention please?”  
  
  
A full body twitch overcame Koutarou. His legs straightened in an instant and he somehow managed to sit completely upright before regaining consciousness or using his arms ( _that strength was really…_ ).  
  
  
“Wargh?”  
  
  
Koutarou questioned. Well, Kaneki assumed it was a question by the tone. He wasn’t really sure what it was supposed to mean though.  
  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
  
Kaneki asked. Koutarou coughed, clearing his throat, finally coming to terms with his location and audience. Kaneki watched the pink trail up his neck to his ears as the man coughed again. Koutarou drew himself to his feet, swaying a little. Finally he looked at Kaneki in his nest of blankets.  
  
  
“Ah, I apologize. I meant to wake up first.”  
  
  
Koutarou murmured, speaking softly and sheepishly. It was endearing, really, causing Kaneki's heart to squeeze a bit ( _though the sweat on his body was cooling uncomfortably_ ).  
  
  
“It’s fine. Could you get out though? I’d like to put on some clothes.”  
  
  
Kaneki knew he was being pretty blunt, however he thought he’d managed to maintain a polite tone. He was hoping Koutarou didn’t remember him ruffling his hair or the way he had woken up.  
  
  
“I…of course. Haha, I’m actually paying attention this time. I’ll go right away.”  
  
  
Koutarou babbled in response, backing out the door while waving his hands around and staring at his feet ( _he really was an honest man_ ).   
  
  
The door clicked shut and Kaneki began to ready himself for the day.

  
~~~~~~

  
It must’ve been earlier than he initially assumed ( _he didn’t have a clock_ ) because the kitchen was dark and empty. Kaneki grinned to himself as memories of stumbling around to make coffee at 6 am came to mind.  
  
  
Hide wasn’t there to butcher his morning drink, so Kaneki searched the kitchen for the necessary tools. He found a lovely blonde roast ( _a personal favourite_ ) from Anteiku in one of the upper cupboards, coffee filters next to them ( _more porous than he’d like_ ), and a silver carafe.  
  
  
Content with his haul, Kaneki heated and poured everything to perfection. He breathed in the nutty scent ( _like toasted almonds, only much much darker_ ) and heard his stomach growl hungrily. There was a package of sugar cubes on the counter ( _reddish-brown and not made of sugar_ ) and a pitcher of blood in the fridge ( _meant to supplement his breakfast_ ).  
  
  
He stood at the counter for a long moment, weighing his options, before finally plucking a single cube out of the bag and stirring it into his coffee. He liked the colour better this way. The addition of blood made the brew look unsettling ( _crimson coffee didn’t exist…it wasn’t normal).  
  
_

The rest of his breakfast passed peacefully. Kaneki perched on the counter, swinging his feet like a child, and listened to the noises of the apartment waking up. He could discern the sound of Koutarou taking a shower ( _a soft curse for too hot water and a groan of appreciation when the temperature fell_ ) and Hide brushing his teeth ( _then pausing halfway through. He was probably spacing out; Hide had never been a morning person_ ).

  
Unconsciously, Kaneki’s lips curled upwards, mirroring his toes.  
  
  
**_Today was a good day._**

  
~~~~~~

 

When Hide was finally awake enough to amble into the kitchen, he hadn’t expected to find Kaneki there. He sat on the cream countertop, dressed in loose fitting black sweatpants and an old dark t-shirt, looking more like a shadow than a person under the bright lighting.  
  
  
He looked satisfied with himself; his head was bent over a half-empty coffee mug and he was breathing in blissfully.

Hide figured he should probably feel insulted ( _his coffee wasn’t that bad_ ), however he was willing to let it slide for today. He’d been worried ( _more than worried_ ) after the talk session the previous day. Hell, he’d lain awake for hours mulling it over.  
  
  
Though Hide was a confident conversationalist, he hadn’t been sure how to guide such a sensitive discussion without detaching himself emotionally. It’s not like he had time to practice or adjust himself to the concept of talk therapy. Still, he was the leader here. He had to take responsibility. **_He had to not make mistakes.  
_**  
  
Hide was aware of his slip-ups and had assumed they’d have repercussions. However, here Kaneki was, cheerful and eating his breakfast without complaint. Koutarou was also awake ( _he could hear the shower running_ ) and the morning was progressing smoothly.  
  
  
It was almost suspicious, though when Hide tried to find it in himself to protest, his best friend peeked up from his coffee mug.  
  
  
“Morning, Hide.”  
  
  
Kaneki greeted, wiggling the fingers of his left hand in a lazy wave. The inflection of his voice was buttery smooth. It sent delighted sparks through Hide’s skin up his spine.  
  
  
**_Today was a good day_** ( _though the coffee in Kaneki’s cup was brown_ ).

  
~~~~~~

  
Hide wondered if he’d set a precedent with the first talk session. Everyone was sitting around him in the exact same formation as before, at the exact same time of day, and Koutarou looked just as spooked. He actually looked a little guilty when Hide squinted at him ( _the muscles in his neck looked really stiff and Koutarou couldn’t stop twiddling his thumbs_ ).  
  
  
Though he was curious, Hide dismissed Koutarou’s odd behavior and the sense of foreboding his solidified leadership gave him. He had to be confident in his plans to make them work ( _he’d gotten this far, hadn’t he?_ ). Clearing his throat, he repeated his opening statement from yesterday:  
  
  
“Does anybody have any questions they want to ask or stories they want to share today?”  
  
  
The rustling of fabric followed his statement as Kaneki leaned forwards. His lips were parted hesitantly, however his gaze was focused firmly on Hide. Hide inclined his head, opening his posture up in response to the question lurking there.  
  
  
“How was school while I was gone? What did you learn? Did the history midterm go well?”  
  
  
There was innocent curiousity lighting up Kaneki’s eyes. It shone distractingly over the anxiety hidden in the tight line of Kaneki’s shoulders and crossed legs. Hide considered the impacts of his answer, whether it would be helpful or hurtful, before deciding on the phrasing he wanted to use.  
  
  
It was a little uncomfortable to see Kaneki mapping the changes in his facial features like he never had before ( _Hide had brought this on himself)._ Despite this, he schooled his voice to be genial and calming. This wasn’t a topic he was emotional about after all.  
  
  
“School was pretty boring after you left. Turns out I get distracted really easily without a stress buffer.”  
  
  
Hide said flippantly. Kaneki snorted at that observation, likely recalling Hide’s scatterbrained moments throughout history ( _or the way Hide used to cuddle him to relax, or listen to Kaneki’s scolding, or…_ ) _.  
  
  
_ “The girl Nishio-senpai was dating, Kimi, started asking me to get coffee with her all the time. She could tell what blend I was drinking just from the smell!”  
  
  
Hide paused to chuckle. Kimi’s face was very expressive, undeterred by her shy nature. Her lips bent upwards and her nose scrunched up when she was surprised or giddy. It made her face go very round, like mochi, and Hide had immediately wanted to pinch her cheeks.

  
“She’s kindof a friend of mine now. Honestly, she’s actually really assertive! A wolf in sheep’s clothing if I’ve ever seen one.”  
  
  
Hide waited a beat, observing the effect of that statement on his best friend. Kaneki looked downwards and off to the right, a little smile playing around his lips. Hide beamed at him affectionately. Since Kaneki had told them stories about Nishiki and his girlfriend, Hide had figured he’d enjoy hearing about their friendship. Kimi was a good girl, a little creepy in some ways, but so was he.  
  
  
Kaneki would’ve liked her.  
  
  
“Some of the clubs nattered on about my terrible work ethic, the librarian fell in love with me, and the dean went ballistic when I quit.”  
  
  
Amusement tried to bring tears of mirth to Hide’s eyes when Kaneki protested his abrupt summary.  
  
  
“Hey! No fair, you can't just bring up something that interesting and then leave out all the detail!”  
  
  
Even Koutarou looked intrigued ( _hook line and sinker_ ) with a single eyebrow arched high on his forehead.  
  
  
“Well, they said I needed to choose a single club in order to work well…”  
  
  
Hide could actually see Koutarou facepalming mentally. His eyelids fell as he huffed in exasperation. Kaneki groaned as well ( _Hide loved having a captive audience to tease_ ).  
  
  
“Really though, the librarian was so excited when I started taking out and reading every book in the social sciences section. She thought I was some voracious book-lover who had discovered the library for the first time. She was so impressed she actually ordered books in for me.”  
  
  
He explained, fighting to keep his amusement from spreading into his voice. At this, Kaneki groaned even louder, likely in exasperation ( _he’d always been able to tell when Hide did things like this, this joking manipulation_ ). Koutarou’s eyebrows knitted in confusion ( _were those eyebrows the most expressive part of him?).  
  
  
_ “It’s not like I intended for her to purchase me books on the school budget. It just happened, I swear it, officer!”  
  
  
There it was, the recognition flickering over Koutarou’s wilting form. The man buried his face in his arm and silently shook his head in disbelief. Peals of laughter slipped between Hide’s teeth at the sight of his friends.  
  
  
“I can’t believe you…”  
  
  
Koutarou grumbled, resting his chin against his hand and gazing at the ceiling wonderingly.  
  
  
“How do you even…how do you even exist? What are you, Nagachika?”  
  
  
Hide’s grin increased in brilliance until it became blinding.  
  
  
“Whatever are you talking about, Koutarou? I’m just another average university student trying to make his way in the world through free textbooks.”  
  
  
Kaneki made a strangled sound and his face turned splotchy as he restrained his giggles. His white hair made the scarlet on his face stand out starkly, much to Hide’s brief distraction.  
  
  
“I wish…haha…I had’ve thought of that. Think of all the money I would’ve saved!”  
  
  
He cried out, slapping at his thighs as laughter shook his form.  
  
  
Soon Hide moved on to telling tales about the CCG. He slowly built them up, giving Kaneki the backgrounds of each person before detailing any incidents. It was a mode of storytelling he’d learned from the master himself and he’d hate to disappoint.  
  
  
“And then Seidou, the guy from the watercooler incident, had his grandmother deliver lunch to him. Turns out, the food was so good that the CCG went nuts for it. I made so much money…”  
  
  
“Oh God, is that why Akira kept trying to set me up on dates? It was with Seidou’s grandmother? For food!? And Arima…my respect…”

  
Koutarou looked positively horrified at finding out the truth behind his squad mates strange behavior at that time. Kaneki looked like he was torn between sympathizing with Seidou and laughing himself sick over his many plights. Eventually, he settled on a combination of both.  
  
  
“He reminds me of myself when I was in middle school.”  
  
  
Kaneki admitted, catching his breath after an uneven burst of chuckles. Hide caught Koutarou’s gaze just on time to see his eyes widen in shock. He’d probably never assumed that there was that kind of side to Kaneki _(Hide felt a little smug…just a little_ ).  
  


Kaneki managed to capture Koutarou’s attention immediately after, his face soft and nostalgic, and he scratched at his nose sheepishly. Hide could easily read the gesture, ‘it’s ok that you’re surprised’, and could just as easily decode Amon’s response ( _constricted chest, lowering his gaze to floor bashfully, squeezing his hands together like a school girl_ ).  
  
  
**_Mission successful_**. Everybody had forgotten about his conversation with the dean. It was for the best; Hide didn’t want to tell them about how it had went. He was a fairly good student and so his reasons for leaving were clearly personal. Kaneki didn’t need to feel any guiltier about it.  
  
  
“Hey, Hide…”  
  
  
They had forgotten...hadn’t they? Kaneki had gotten sharper recently. A squeamish sensation settled in Hide’s stomach, but he nodded his head at Kaneki anyway ( _be confident, be sure, it’ll work out_ ).  
  


“How are your mom and dad?”  
  
  
Hide blinked at the question, thrown for a loop. Though this still wasn’t a topic he was particularly emotional about, it was beginning to toe the line.  
  
  
“They’re well…probably.”  
  
  
How long had it been since they’d last spoken? Hide couldn’t remember well. His father had been upset when he quit school. His mother had looked like she understood something then ( _a soft gasp left her lips and she wrung her hands in despair_ ).  
  
  
She had pulled his father away, soothed his ire, and called Hide…once a month since then? Maybe more?  
  
  
**_How long had it been since he’d answered?_**  
  
  
“Dad got a new job awhile back…things were really busy for them and me. We haven’t talked much.”  
  
  
He hadn’t wanted to lie, to break his own rules, but this whole thing had way too much potential to blow up in his face ( _is that what he was really worried abou_ t?).

  
“Hide…”  
  
  
Kaneki was using his motherly ( _he winced_ ) tone as if Hide had muddy sneakers on the counter.  
  
  
“Your parents love you a lot. You should go see them –“  
  
  
Everyone in the room flinched simultaneously.  
  
  
“Sometime. When…when you can.”  
  
  
Kaneki trailed off awkwardly. Hide’s traitorous mind was laughing at him ( _break one rule and watch the rest crumble_ ). There were now three people tilting on the edge of despair.  
  
  
The outside world was only kept away from them by the thin walls of the apartment. Hide knew that wasn’t enough to keep their responsibilities at bay too.  
  
  
“’Neki, my parents love you too.”  
  
  
Divert, diverge, change something. **_Restart the conversation without lying._**  
  
  
Hide was trying, however he watched Kaneki’s face fall even further. What was there to be sad about?  
  
  
Oh.  
  
  
**_Oh._**  
  
  
He squinted at his best friend’s closed off body language as he curled into himself. Kaneki didn’t feel like he could go see his parents as he was now. He probably thought they’d ask questions.  
  
  
How ridiculous. They were Nagachikas after all.  
  
  
“When I became reclusive, they asked me to come to them when I was ready. I didn’t really think of them until now…but I think they’ve been waiting for me.”  
  
  
He wondered aloud. The stabbing nagging guilt in the back of his mind made sense now. So did the glimmer of an epiphany in his mother’s eyes.  
  
  
“I think they’re waiting for you too. No questions asked.”  
  
  
He told Kaneki. His mother knew why he was leaving. She knew because she had wanted to do the same thing. She couldn’t though, not with a family to care for, not when she thought Kaneki had finally had too much ( _that he'd run away...she hadn't been wrong_ ).  
  
  
She’d wanted them both to be free ( _he didn’t deserve her. How could anyone ever deserve her?_ ).  
  


The next breath Kaneki drew sounded damp. Surprisingly ( _or not_ ), Koutarou also seemed to be holding back tears. Hide thought he should tell him to stop clenching his jaw since it was bad for his teeth, then decided it wasn’t his business.  
  
  
The big ol’ sap probably wanted to hear more about their happy times. Right now, Hide was in the mood to reminisce anyway. It would help him formulate ways to apologize for his absence ( _even if he wasn’t entirely sorry_ ). It would also help everyone catch up that much faster ( _so he could finally lay into the harder issues_ ).  
  
  
“Tell me a story, ‘Neki. Koutarou’s curious.”  
  
  
"Alright...let's see..."  
  
  
One memory quickly became thousands. Hide almost felt like he couldn’t hold all of them in his hands, his heart, or his brain. He wanted to though; each and every one was infused with the sunlight of his childhood, warm days and warmer nights, times when Kaneki was nearly his blood instead of ‘just’ a friend.

  
Kaneki had gripped onto every ounce of affection he’d been given. He told them about how Hide’s mother made too much food ( _so Kaneki could eat without imposing_ ), how exactly five of his tests were pinned to the fridge ( _from highschool, back when no one was proud of him_ ), and how Hide’s dad had tried to teach him how to be a man ( _getting him his first girlfriend, losing him that girlfriend a few minutes later, and showing him how to be a terrible mechanic_ ).  
  
  
The sad moments clung to his friend too. Kaneki remembered the support Hide’s parents had given at his mother’s funeral ( _silent bystanders waiting in the car_ ). He could still paint, in vivid detail, the day Hide’s cat had run away. The time that his father had struggled with his work (“ _it just feels like everyone hates me.” He had whispered, his head in his hands, as Kaneki had sat next to him wordlessly_ ). The morning his mother had nearly sliced off a finger ( _she had laughed waveringly and his father had promptly fainted_ ).  
  
  
He even recalled the rare occasions Hide had fallen ill ( _begging Kaneki to go home and not get sick, then immediately taking it back and begging him to stay, get sick, and then miss school with him_ ).  
  
  
Throughout the retelling of times long gone, Hide watched Koutarou’s grin grow into something dopey and lovestruck. It was huge and defenceless. Hide almost wanted to snuff it out ( ** _this was his shared past_** ) when Kaneki paused between tales to peek at Koutarou’s face.  
  
  
The urge died a swift and brutal death when Kaneki completely relaxed at the sight. There was a moment there, a heartbeat in which Hide could see a connection, thin and reedy but undeniably there.  
  
  
Koutarou’s giddy affection was both obvious and soothing. Its purity was wholly non-threatening. Hide acknowledged that. It was something he was fond of too, even if it made him envious ( _he had a mask like that, however it was only a mask. Masks didn’t drain the restless agitation from Kaneki’s shoulders and neck_ ).  
  
  
“I’m a little lonely without them to be honest.”  
  
  
Kaneki murmured, leaning his chin heavily onto a propped up arm. Hide arched an eyebrow at him in question.  
  
  
“I mean, I’m lonely like a person who is thinking about an aunt or uncle with whom they are close. I haven’t really thought of them much either, not since I started school.”  
  
  
That was because school had filled a void in Kaneki’s life, wasn’t it? It let him move on from the past and the thorny need for parental love. It let him drift a little…drift away…  
  
  
“Who’s the bad son now?”  
  
  
Hide teased, turning away his own thoughts and testing the waters ( _always testing, always probing, until the waves stopped churning_ ). Kaneki was beginning to look tired again, though the joke perked him up somewhat.  
  
  
“I seem to remember a time that a ten year old Hideyoshi –“  
  
  
Oh no. He knew this story. He was having so much fun teasing Koutarou when he had no ammunition to fire back!  
  
  
“Kanekiiiiiiiiiiiiii, nooooooooooooo!”  
  
  
Hide whined, barely holding back from launching himself across the room to smother his friend ( _this was a no touching time…distance was a must_ ).  
  
  
“Wanted me to replace his mother. He swore up and down that I’d be great at it and would probably let him eat whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. He was wrong about that, but I still remember it fondly.”  
  
  
Moaning, Hide covered his head with his arms. Koutarou was guffawing loudly and shaking in his chair.  
  
  
“That’s rich! That’s so rich! Kaneki Ken collector of children! Oh Nagachika, I never knew you had it in you.”  
  
  
He burst out. Hide just knew Koutarou was wiping away tears of mirth.  
  
  
“No wonder you miss them so much. Sounds like you were part of the family.”  
  
  
Koutarou said, warm empathy perfusing his voice.  
  
  
Familial love…  
  
  
Hide's family had provided Kaneki that.  
  
  
It felt odd to him now. Once, he had wanted Kaneki to be his mother, or his brother, or a cousin. He’d wanted them to be family.  
  
  
For how long had he wanted to be something entirely separate? Something special that only he could be. No bloodties, no shared titles, nothing.  
  
  
Maybe his masks had never been very effective. It was possible that him and Kaneki had been ignoring something very obvious for a very long time, because the instant his thoughts drifted, Hide saw Kaneki thumb his nose in thought.  
  
  
“Hide.”  
  
  
He’d noticed. ** _For how long had he been noticing?_ **  
  
  
They had never needed questions in the past. They’d only needed to see each other. Was that really right? **_Was that really how things had been?_ **  
  
  
What a queer thought.  
  
  
“Hide.”  
  
  
Jerkily, he nodded, regretting the loss of the leader demeanor he’d maintained thus far today.  
  
  
“Maybe I’m stepping out of bounds right now, but I just want you to know I consider you separate from your family.”  
  
  
Kaneki informed him. Hide knew that. He really did. So why was he having doubts? Why did hearing it out loud, hearing that he was loved, make a difference?  
  
  
“I could think of your parents every once in a while and not be troubled, but I would never forget about you.”  
  
  
Kaneki's voice was lined in steel and more ferocious than he'd heard in awhile.  
  
  
“I know.”  
  
  
Hide whispered, staring into Kaneki’s eyes unwaveringly. Heat blossomed in every piece of him as Kaneki’s face slowly turned red.  
  
  
Hide felt solid. **_He felt whole._**  
  
  
Kaneki blurted,  
  
  
“Just making sure.”  
  
  
And tried to hide an embarrassed, though self-satisfied, smile.  
  
  
Distractedly, he realized Koutarou was witnessing a lot of sappy moments lately. Hide wondered if he could draw out enough of his desert dry humour that he would use these times against him ( _mockery, but all in good humou_ r). A single look told him Koutarou was far too much of a romantic to ever think of it, however ( _which left him a little disappointed_ ).  
  
  
Honestly, how deeply had Koutarou sunk that he could sit and listen to their childhood stories for hours gladly?  
  
  
Probably just as deeply as Kaneki had, lost in times he felt like he could love and had earned love.  
  


“You deserved so much better in your childhood.”  
  
  
Hide rumbled unhappily. He deserved more occasions like that. Koutarou did too.  
  
  
“Every kid should be prioritized and have time dedicated solely to them. It’s important.”  
  
  
Though he was speaking to Kaneki, Hide could see Koutarou twitch in his peripheral vision ( _he gazed at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed_ ).  
  
  
Hide wasn’t heartless or anything. He knew right from wrong ( _even if he didn’t care sometimes_ ). The lonely people here with him had been wronged; of this he was certain.  
  
  
“My mother tried her best.”  
  
  
Kaneki said placatingly, waving his open palms in front of his chest.  
  
  
Then his fluttering froze abruptly and the muscles in his neck seized up. Hide’s breathing became shallow as he watched his friend become trapped in a flashback. Every vein in his exposed hands and sockless feet bulged prominently before falling flat.  
  
  
Gasping for air, Kaneki clawed at his wrists with blunt nails. Little red half-moon rose in their path, fading slowly enough that Hide’s mind flickered to Kaneki’s brown morning coffee. It darted back when Koutarou got to his feet on his right just as Kaneki settled down on his left.  
  
  
“Hah…hah…well, I guess there’s some things I’m not allowed to lie about ever again.”  
  
  
Kaneki’s statement was flat and dull. There was something waiting in the wings, a shadow of some greater thing, however Hide couldn’t possibly know what it was ( _they had never needed questions…had they?_ ). His eyes were flinty when he spoke again.  
  
  
“Actually, she could have done more. I wish she had. She just would’ve needed to sacrifice something else.”  
  
  
It was nearly gratifying to see Kaneki’s darkness spread all over the thoughts Hide had had years ago. However, Hide had made peace with Kaneki’s mother ( _admittedly, it was posthumous_ ). It had been the right decision. Hide didn’t want Kaneki to have to wait to make that same realization.

  
“Did she love me like she was supposed to? Did I ever even properly love her? Maybe I didn’t.”  
  
  
Kaneki questioned himself darkly.  
  
  
“Woah there buddy, that’s going too far. I know you loved her.”  
  
  
Hide stopped him. At times like these he wished he had Kaneki’s literary vocabulary. Though the words of poets held little meaning for him, they captured elusive emotions much better than critical analysis.  
  
  
“Did you want to spend time with her?”  
  
  
He queried, leaning back in his seat like a cocky interrogator ( _splayed limbs and an arrogant tilt to his chin_ ). Kaneki was bad with confrontation, however he was volatile when you pushed against his most precious emotions and beliefs.  
  
  
“Yes! Of course I did!”  
  
  
Kaneki responded angrily.  
  
  
“Did you wait for her countless times? Did you go home early to see her?”  
  
  
The response came quicker this time.   
  
  
“You know I did.”  
  
  
“When she fell ill, did it hurt you?”  
  
  
Hide pressed.  
  
  
“Maybe I just wanted someone to take care of me.”  
  
  
So Kaneki was getting lippy now?  
  
  
**_Perfect._**  
  
  
“My parents would have taken care of you. Did you feel sad when she was sad? Did you get angry in her defense? Did you cling onto her memory even after she died?”  
  
  
The questions were coming hard and fast, pulling Kaneki through the maze of his own feelings and memories.  
  
  
“So what if I did? Maybe I was just lonely!”  
  
  
Kaneki exclaimed.   
  
  
Bullshit.  
  
  
“Someone else could have provided you with company. **_Other people tried._** Were you lonely just because it was her?”  
  
  
Hide asked, causing Kaneki to sputter to a stop, holding his breath.  
  
  
“Did you go home just because it was her? Did you practice acting just because she’d see it? **_Did you suffer for years by her words_ _just because they were her’s_**?”  
  
  
Hide let the questions fire out quickly, giving Kaneki no room to disagree. The silence that followed was substantial enough that Hide didn’t dare look away.  
  
  
“ ** _Yes._** ”  
  
  
Kaneki’s affirmation was so hushed it could have been swallowed by Hide’s heartbeat ( _which had currently stopped_ ). It was so fucked up that something like this would hurt his friend.  
  
  
“She loved you too. **_Love doesn’t negate fear though_**. It doesn’t necessarily make you brave.”  
  
  
Hide said, longing to take Kaneki’s hands. As if in response, his friend stuffed them deep into his pockets, shielding himself from scrutiny ( _that sent a pang of regret through his very soul_ ).  
  
  
“Her love was flawed. She was just another person. Despite that, even I eventually had to admit to myself that she adored you.”  
  
  
It had been a painful and long process for Hide to realize that Kaneki's mother did care.  
  
  
A neutral hum was Kaneki’s only response. Clearly, the problem here was deeply ingrained ( _even more so than before university_ ).  
  
  
Helplessly, Hide stared at Koutarou. Though he couldn’t speak from a place of experience, everything about Koutarou’s current air said he could. He gave the impression that he was in pain from an old scar as opposed to Hide’s fresh wounds.  
  
  
His staring was noticed swiftly ( _bless the big idiot for actually paying attention_ ). Koutarou dipped his chin to his chest, seeking something inside of himself.  
  
  
“She might not have only been afraid. Your mother was probably trying to set an example for you.’  
  
  
He muttered, his voice gaining strength little by little.  
  
  
“She probably wanted to stop working to spend time with you. Did she try go to see you when you did things at school? Did she help you with homework, or learning, or making things?”  
  
  
The ghost of scratchy wool rolled over Hide’s fingertips. Kaneki’s mother had helped him make a scarf for Hide’s birthday many years ago. It had been the best present of his life, especially when Kaneki had giddily reminisced about how delighted his mother had been to help.  
  
  
Kaneki peered out at them from beneath his bangs with faraway eyes. Hide knew what he was probably seeing. It would be his mother teaching him how to read between the lines of novels, showing him complicated kanji, and rushing out of the auditorium to cough in the halls during their school play ( _when she’d been dying_ ).  
  
  
“Her beliefs, those words Nagachika said she told you, and the lessons she wanted to teach you drove her forward. They made her keep working, if my understanding is correct, until she died.”  
  
  
Hide was actually a little proud of how much Koutarou had grown observationally since they’d first met.  
  
  
“Parents try to be better people for their kids. Sometimes though, it turns them into caricatures of who they were. It prevents them from just being people who love you.”  
  
  
Koutarou finished, his gaze as faraway as Kaneki’s ( _lost in a past Hide couldn’t completely discern_ ).  
  
  
“She made a scarf with me once,”  
  
  
Kaneki whispered roughly  _(it was blue and orange and embossed with their names)._  
  
  
“And she smiled like the girls at school: airy and weightless. Her work just…went away for awhile.”  
  
  
His eyes watered behind his bangs.  
  
  
“I still…can’t be sure. I don’t know if I can ever be sure, since she’s dead, but I think she did care.”  
  
  
Kaneki admitted. Hide exhaled slowly through his nose. He listened to Koutarou sighing off to his left and he glimpsed at him.  
  
  
Koutarou lifted his index finger and they shifted their focus to what he had to say.  
  
  
“Another time, I’d like to talk about the man who raised me.”  
  
  
He hesitated, staring Kaneki in the eyes before continuing.  
  
  
“Your feelings are valid. I also have questions that have shaped the man I am today. Having these questions is alright, though I hope we find answers for ourselves someday.”  
  
  
A crooked smile was exchanged between the two of them. A shard of jealously pierced Hide’s heart alongside his relief. Kaneki looked desperately grateful that not every question had to be answered now.  
  
  
While he called the talk to an end, Hide ran his mind over Koutarou’s actions appraisingly. There were things he couldn’t understand through lack of experience that Koutarou could.  
  
  
Envy aside, it got the job done ( _if only he could do more_ ).

~~~~~~

  
  
Wandering around late one night when he couldn’t sleep, Kaneki noticed that the bookshelf filled with old ratty titles had expanded. Where the books had come from was a mystery ( _it wasn't, but he wanted it to be_ ).  
  


He could question it. He could ask himself how material from outside wound up inside. Just for once though, he wanted peace.  
  
  
Instead of pondering something hurtful, Kaneki picked up a book. It was an old story of Takatsuki Sen’s. He turned it over in his hands again and again.  
  


Tsukiyama had once told him that we enjoy books we can relate to…  
  
  
If he could ever be alright with this adoration, this attachment to life and the selfishness inherent to it, would he still enjoy these novels?  
  
  
It was a curious thought.

  
~~~~~~  


More nightmares and more days with Koutarou on his floor. At this point, Kaneki had begun to lay out pillows there ( _though he said they’d fallen off the bed_ ). He was also sure Hide had become aware of the state of things, though he didn’t say it out loud.  
  
  
Listening to Koutarou’s barely audible breathing, Kaneki scrubbed his hands through is hair. He’d been pondering his and Hide’s relationship for awhile ( _since Hide had admitted how difficult it was for him to share everything aloud)_.  
  
  
They were both private people, easily misunderstood, and it forced them to frequently rely on more than words. He worried that his perception was flawed, however. He wasn’t sure how well he really understood Hide or vice versa. But when his thoughts were clear, Hide was always easy to read.  
  
  
Kaneki whined, high and reedy, to himself.  
  
  
Friendship was complicated.

  
~~~~~~

 

Sturdy hands guided Kaneki’s every movement through the kitchen as he prepared breakfast for his companions. Hide stood at his back, holding him tightly after a few seconds of doubt and fluttery gestures.  
  
  
Hide spiced all the food he made very heavily. At first, Kaneki had thought it was strange. Eventually, he noticed that the scent of spices was much more bearable than that of cooking meat. It made it possible for him to cook without discomfort.  
  
  
In fact, he came to notice that Hide, Koutarou, and all the furniture in the apartment smelled faintly of spices. Their odour remained unchanged to his half-ghoul nose ( _unlike the scents of cream, meat, and...ugh...cheeses_ ). They smelled dry or full, sharp or mellow, spicy or sweet - things that didn’t really exist in a ghoul’s pallet.  
  
  
It made him nostalgic for human food.  
  
  
Sunset orange paprika spilt onto the countertop. It stood out starkly against the cold and sterile alabaster background.  
  
  
“Hide, why all the white?”  
  
  
He’d been intrigued for quite some time. The question always faded into the back of his mind when they fell into more serious discussion though.  
  
  
“It’s so I can visualize changes and focus on people.”  
  
  
Hide responded. The stain remained mockingly within Kaneki’s vision. The little blot only worsened his incomprehension ( _what was that even supposed to mean?_ ).  
  
  
A tanned arm lined with tiny flecks of pink scar tissue entered his field of view. Hide wiped away the stain humming a cheery tune and returned to cooking. Kaneki leaned back against him, happy to absorb the cuddle time they’d been missing on their more stressful days.  
  
  
He’d let Hide get away with his nonsense explanation. It didn’t matter much anyway.  
  
  
Though his moods swung frequently with the tension, his insufficient sleep, and the headaches that still plagued his slowly healing brain ( _or maybe they were stress related…everything was so confusing_ ), Hide’s touch could still ground him when he desired it. It was like balm and bandages on the ragged edges of who he’d once been.  
  
  
The long blonde ends of Hide’s hair brushed against his cheekbones when Hide leaned in to flip the eggs in the pan. Kaneki gazed at the sizzling oil and inhaled Hide’s scent ( _sunbaked wildflowers and sharp almond underneath the lavender-vanilla soap they all used_ ).  
  
  
Maybe Hide was food for the soul. He was constantly giving Kaneki things he didn’t have ( _a home, a family, a purpose_ ). He gave him the tools he needed to grow. Just knowing Hide existed was enough to settle him sometimes. _  
  
_

He still felt like he should leave. He wasn’t so arrogant as to say it was his resolve that kept him here now. It was only half, maybe even less, of the reason why he stood in the kitchen wrapped in Hide’s embrace.  
  
  
Kaneki wanted Hide to live forever. He wanted to live forever in Hide too. Being desired, never fading, being remembered as he used to be…it was a hunger he couldn’t shake.  
  
  
_'Whether it is quenching the thirst of a poisonfeather bird or a fatal attraction, I am unwilling to miss this moment of tenderness. Immortality is a legend composed by life, using memories as ink, composing you and I.’_  
  
  
With a Chinese poem repeating in his mind, Kaneki twisted to gaze into Hide’s eyes. The dark golden-brown of his roots ( _which had grown down to his brows_ ) was only a few shades off from his eyes. It made Kaneki smile tenderly, brushing the strands away with his fingers.  
  
  
He let his bare skin linger against Hide’s. It was warm, so warm, and Hide had a secretive lift in the corner of his mouth that Kaneki liked. It wasn’t a bad secret. It was more like…  
  
  
Whatever thoughts had been floating on the surface of his mind were destroyed by a disturbance. Koutarou plodded into the room like an elephant. He yawned and stretched, confusedly staring at the cooking pair before tossing himself onto the couch.  
  
  
His feet stuck out over the ends due to his height. He was also only wearing a single sock. Kaneki found his tender countenance from earlier remained untouched.  
  
  
If he was being realistic, Koutarou probably fed something in him too.

  
~~~~~~

“I’ve been having nightmares.”  
  
  
Kaneki bluntly opened their talk session.  
  
  
“I can’t always have Koutarou sleeping on my floor. Lately, his spine literally crackles when he moves.”  
  
  
Koutarou shifted, clearly preparing a rebuttal, but his back popped several times. He slunk back into his seat as if the pops had been a scolding ( _his posture was atrocious and he moved every few seconds to adjust the load on his aching lower back_ ).  
  
  
The appraising eyebrow lift made an appearance on Hide’s face. Kaneki lifted one in return. He already knew that Hide had noticed the circles under his eyes ( _there were some under Hide’s too_ ). There was also no way he missed the loud complaints Koutarou’s body had been making lately.  
  
  
“My nightmares are about Rize, the ghoul who was used to change me, and Yamori.”  
  
  
Kaneki continued, drawing strength from the notes he’d compiled the night before.  
  
  
“Once, Rize was a symbol of strength to me. She was everything I had to be, everything I envied, and I felt like I stole her power.”  
  
  
Hide and Koutarou’s faces twisted. Koutarou stretched his hands outwards like he wanted to speak, however Kaneki wasn’t finished.  
  
  
“I met her again and realized that I was wrong. Sometimes though, she still claws at my psyche. Yamori still stalks through my head.”  
  
  
The mention of his name was enough for him to crack a finger behind his back. He timed it with Koutarou’s regular shifting, but Hide still eyed him sharply.  
  
  
“He comes with promises of strength and speeches about weakness. **_I know that I’m wrong already_**. However, I can’t get them to go away forever.”  
  
  
There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere of the room. If he’d been less anxious or was less hyper-attentive, Kaneki wouldn’t have even noticed it.  
  
  
Hide and Koutarou made eye contact and a message was conveyed. They looked thoroughly impressed. After they looked away, the two of them sunk back in their seats, leaving themselves wide open ( _no longer trying so hard to shield him_ ).  
  
  
They’d been underestimating Kaneki’s mental strength. They hadn’t seen the fruits of his labour. He had spent countless hours sealing the cracks in his armour that made him vulnerable. He’d tried dozens on methods. He’d broken and reforged this part of himself so many times it was practically unrecognizable.  
  
  
Though he hadn’t been entirely successful, he’d managed to work alone to compartmentalize his greatest issues. It had been frustrating for him to be treated like glass or like somebody who required constant care ( _by Anteiku, by Banjou, and now by them_ ).  
  
  
He’d been working on saving himself. Even if he hadn’t been successful, **_he’d tried_**.  
  
  
That shift in the room, if he could let himself have one moment of pride, was them acknowledging the worth of his efforts. Just that was enough to excite him. He could keep trying. **_He could succeed.  
_**  

“I wondered if letting you guys know would help. These nightmares have always been a private paranoia for me. I used to barricade the door of my room to keep other people out. So I couldn’t hurt them, I mean. Then I started blocking off the doors to keep the dreams away.”  
  
  
Kaneki picked at his nails.  
  
  
“I think my privacy is fuelling them. I…would like to talk about their source.”  
  
  
He choked out. It felt like his throat was swelling shut. Kaneki scrabbled at the confidence he had started out with. It wasn’t gone, but it shrunk in the momentous face of his torture. He could still show them his strength though.  
  
  
**_He was so scared of being scared._**  
  
  
“That...doesn’t seem to be an option yet. Someday though, I want to have this talk.”  
  


He managed to grit out. Hide and Koutarou were looking at each other again, coming to another silent agreement. Kaneki had to wonder if that’s what he and Hide had always looked like to outsiders.

  
“We won’t mind if you want to stay up late and read, leave the lights on, or want one of us to stay in your room.”  
  
  
They replied. Awash with gratefulness, Kaneki smiled at his friends. His frustrations were ebbing away bit by bit and it seemed to please them too. Though he wasn’t sure if he’d take them up on the offer, Kaneki could hardly believe the understanding that had gone into making it.  
  
  
He was useless now, he was sure. Support would help him face his fears though. It could help him become a person who deserved it.

 

~~~~~~

  
  
Squinting through the bright light of the open fridge, Hide peered into the metal pitcher of blood. The amount of liquid was far greater than it should be. It should be nearly empty, hence his checkup to go get more.  
  
  
Letting Kaneki make his own coffee would have consequences.  
  
  
Hide sighed heavily, shutting the fridge and leaning his forehead against the door in the dark. He had to remember that Kaneki was strong – strong-willed and strong-hearted. He could let this be for awhile longer…maybe Kaneki would deal with it himself.  
  
  
At least the meat was being eaten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we've gotten a good look at Hide's internal processes and worries. In this chapter I also tried to let everybody see how Hide and Amon interact with each other and create balance. Finally, I really wanted to show off Kaneki's mental strength. It's important to remember that even though he couldn't save himself, both in Carry Me Home and in canon, Kaneki realized his own faults at the end and managed to cope with extreme mental stress like a highly trained soldier. He deserves respect for it. I can only hope I do him justice.
> 
> The whole "Seeds" arc is a bridge focusing on everyone's flaws and imperfections and how they relate to one another. This situation is new to them all. Every little stress, every happy moment, and the sadness they've been keeping bottled up is magnified under scrutiny. They've got to catch up with each other's lives, learn their limits, and then give each other time and support. 
> 
> Keeping with the concept of "Seeds" they need to be planted, wait in dormancy, and then be given everything they need when the time is right.
> 
> ((((In light of recent events in :Re : While this chapter notes that someone can abuse you and still love you, what is written here has no intention of minimizing physical abuse. I had no idea at the time this was written that Kaneki's mother beat him. That's why it isn't mentioned here in this story. I might change some things and add it in at a later date, however for now just know I'm not trying to gloss over it))))


	25. Seeds (Part 3/6)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeds can grow herbs, flowers, crops, and poison. There's no guarantee that raising them with love and affection will result in the desired end product.
> 
> Here's some fluff, some angst, some introspection, and a lot of relationship building.
> 
> (((((In light of recent events in :Re, I was off the mark about Kaneki's relationship with his mother. Though this story is "canon divergence", that little bit of canon has died a quick death in this story. Sorry))))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a couple references to "Daisy Chain" and "One More Night" in this chapter, as well as references to Amon's Tokyo Ghoul novels. 
> 
> The quotes are from Haruki Marukami and the book "Crushed".
> 
> Additionally, just to be clear, the kind of love that everyone in this story encounters aren't all sunshine and rose petals. There are unhealthy facets to it for each of them. Whether it grows into something healthy or if it becomes something that would be unhealthy in any other situation, their love is complex and the author doesn't entirely approve of it (especially side-eying Hide here).

The little library in the apartment had expanded again. Newer looking volumes had found their place amongst the older. Kaneki knew this because their spines snapped pleasantly in his hands when he opened them, calming more violent urges within him.  
  
  
The shelf had increased in size too. It had gotten taller. Somehow, it had also gotten less organized, the titles within it arranged in no particular order.  
  
  
One night, when he found himself with little else to do, Kaneki decided to alphabetize the books. He wanted to be able to find whatever he was looking for quickly and easily ( _years spent in libraries made his fingers itch for coloured stickers and checkouts_ ). Unfortunately, he soon found that he was too short to reach the new top shelf.  
  
  
He had considered flexing his kagune and using it to move things around. His healing had sped up considerably, but something was holding him back from releasing the rinkaku in his back. Because of this, he had paced for an hour, unsure and muttering under his breath.   


Eventually Koutarou had found him there ( _no one in this place ever seemed to sleep_ ). They were both tired and Kaneki was sure his agitation was palpable. He was close to apologizing and heading off to bed when Koutarou had yawned and extended his hands outwards, palms out. He was requesting permission to touch him.  
  
  
He had nodded ( _just a tip of his chin_ ) and quickly found his legs wrapped and supported by Koutarou’s powerful arms. From his human perch Kaneki arranged the books as he pleased.  
  
  
No words passed between them, however the silence was comforting. When his job was completed, Kaneki was gently lowered the floor ( _he felt so much better up in the air_ ). It was amazing to feel every muscle underneath him strain and pull with his descent ( _could he ever be that strong?_ ).  
  
  
Koutarou wandered off to bed with a book in hand. It was an older title ( _one Kaneki had read the day before_ ). He called out a goodnight, leaving Kaneki where he was.  
  
  
He remained at the shelf, contemplating its new order. How would he reach the top shelf next time?

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Since they’d all caught up on each other’s lives ( _with the exception of some…major events_ ), Hide had deemed them all in need of some ‘alone time’. It was different than their usual after-talk sessions where they were free to do whatever. Alone time was a day off from their talks.  
  
  
Kaneki’s first alone time session made him uncomfortable. He’d grown used to Hide facilitating conversation and contact. The talk time days allowed him to retreat into himself whenever he wanted instead of enforcing it. Though he could choose to end the session whenever he wished, Kaneki felt like he’d nearly forgotten how to reach out ( _maybe that was the point_ ).  
  
  
The second time was easier. Instead of drowning himself in books or holing up in his room like Koutarou and Hide, Kaneki wandered freely. He’d given his mind a mission for the day ( _a test of his senses and recovery_ ). It was something he’d be embarrassed about if anyone were around to see him.  
  
  
Their apartment had a never changing odour Kaneki was determined to identify. It was complex, layered, and forced him to relax. He only ever noticed it in its absence ( _when he showered or buried his face deeply into his morning coffee_ ). When it was gone, he found that his muscles would tense up and old memories would return to haunt him.  
  
  
Simply put, he wanted to know what it was ( _why it helped, how he could reproduce it, if he could keep it in his mask or in his home_ ).  
  
  
There was one scent, the top note, that lingered constantly in the back of his mind. It was akin to summer days. He desperately wanted to bottle it up and keep it forever. Sometimes he hung around places that it ghosted through, like the doorway of Hide’s room or the bookshelf.  
  
  
At the moment it was unidentifiable. Huffing to himself, Kaneki moved on through the apartment, hoping to find elements of it elsewhere.  
  
  
The kitchen was spiced with cracked pink peppercorn, nutmeg, cinnamon, and rosemary. The air was warm and dry like a winter fire, begging him to sit and stay awhile. Resting his face on the cold countertop while slumped in a stool, Kaneki closed his eyes and breathed deeply.  
  
  
Under the heated tang of old spices he could detect other things. Something lemony pulled at his memories of herb gardens but escaped his grasp. Basil came to him more easily. Buried deep underneath it all was something vaguely off-putting. His heart clenched at the idea that the scent was human food.  
  
  
The fabrics in every room ( _the living room, the kitchen, the bedrooms, the closets_ ) were dusted with florals. Chamomile and lavender clung to his clothing strongly, while jasmine and sweet pea lay low. He could only identify them after he inhaled by a pillow that had been sprayed more thickly with their perfume. His mother had loved sweet pea…sweet pea and cucumber fabric mist ( _he stood quickly, leaving the room_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki’s bedroom perpetually bore a strong bouquet of lavender and cooking vanilla. The dry sweetness of it helped him sleep. Though the scent was soothing, it still wasn’t what he was looking for.  
  
  
The perfume he hunted was lush. Lush like a hot day, cut grass, and something that had lingered on Hide’s skin since their childhood. He had, embarrassingly, once called it ‘sunlight’. Now however, Kaneki knew this scent had to be something tangible.  
  
  
Threads of it could be described in the spices of the kitchen and the lightweight florals of the fabrics. It wasn’t exactly the same, but Kaneki was sure there were flowers and herbs somewhere that could be blended to form it.   
  
  
In his contemplation, Kaneki wandered back over to Hide’s doorway. The essence of what he was looking for lingered there most heavily.  
  
  
He placed a hand on Hide’s closed door. Kaneki had been avoiding entering this room since he’d arrived. He was so terribly tempted to sleep in there, to fall into the dogpiles of the past, however he didn’t trust himself or his dreams.  
  
  
There was a flickering inside of his head. It was a memory, something on the tip of his tongue, and he seized it. The middle note of the summer perfume was chicory and wild carrot. They had grown on the hills of his childhood, sprouting behind Hide’s house on hot days.  
  
  
Steeling himself, Kaneki pushed open the door and peered into Hide’s room. It was empty of life except for the plants inside. There were no uncovered windows in the apartment, but Hide had set up a series of baking hot grow lamps over some plant stands.  
  
  
Chicory, wild carrot, Queen Anne’s lace, goldenrod, clovers, and wild blooms he couldn’t remember the names of grew there. The hazy combination of their scents drew him back to sunlit days and short warm nights.  
  
  
There was a dry sweetness to it ( _like wheat in the field_ ), layered over heavy lacquered honey and wood ( _a round odour, full and complex_ ), settled on top of something green and powdery ( _pollen?_ ).  
  
  
Though this probably couldn’t be replicated or bottled, Kaneki left Hide’s room content. He had an answer to his query ( _memories to sort through…and a friend to be thankful for_ ).  
  
  
Besides, he had also learned something interesting. Just by being there, all three of them had a similar fragrance. His journey made him aware of the dusty green smell of French lavender in their hair, sweet brown vanilla on their clothes, and the little quirks that made them each unique.  
  
  
Koutarou had taken a liking to chamomile tea, so he bore a floral overtone. Flowers suited him – even the jasmine of the chairs remained in his suit jackets. Hide spiced his coffee with cardamom ( _Turkish style. Kaneki had showed him how_ ) and the heat of it clung to him. It drowned out any of the bitterness the coffee would have left on his breath.  
  
  
And Kaneki…he was coloured by darkly roasted coffee beans, nutty and earthy, in a way no cologne could replicate. It was bitter in a way that appealed to him greatly. It was nice to share something with them without losing himself. It was so simple…but it still meant a lot.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Perhaps it was because he’d been leeching off of Kaneki’s recommended reads, but Amon quickly fond himself falling in love with a fantasy series. It was the same series Kaneki had devoured the day before and Amon couldn’t find the last book. Suspecting its location, he padded down the hall to knock on Kaneki’s door.  
  
  
Some time had passed since dinner and he wasn’t sure if he’d be awake. However, an airy,  
  
  
“Come in.”  
  
  
Chimed through the wood. Humming cheerily, Amon elbowed through the doorway with a mug of coffee balanced in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. Kaneki glanced up from his book, quirking his lips upwards at the sight of him.  
  
  
“Thank you, Koutarou.”  
  
  
He said, gratefully removing the too full cup from Amon’s burning hands.  
  
  
Amon settled himself in his usual spot on the floor, not commenting on the pillows Kaneki had left there. The silence stretched out in a mellow fashion as they sipped their drinks and Amon watched Kaneki’s face. Once he’d finished the chapter he was on, Kaneki settled a finger between the pages.  
  
  
“Did you want the last book of that series? The Sacrifice, the medieval one about a knight battling destiny, right?”  
  
  
He asked, already stretching out over the edge of the bed to reach into the pile of books below it. He shuffled through a few titles without waiting for a response and pulled out the one Amon had been looking for.  
  
  
“This one?”  
  
  
Kaneki continued, waving the book in his direction. Amon nodded, extending his arm to take the short paperback.  
  
  
Hungrily, he flipped through the pages, tearing through stunning battles and heart-wrenching tragedies in a little over an hour. The rise and fall of the Sacrificial Knight was a tale he was deeply invested in, though he didn’t understand its many references to Norse mythology or an ‘eternal champion’.  
  
  
When he finished, Amon gazed upwards, hoping to get a sneak peek at Kaneki’s peaceful face. Instead, he abruptly stared right into Kaneki’s eyes. He’d been watching him read with an amused expression ( _had he made any stupid faces? Or cried? He hoped he hadn’t_ ).  


“You seemed like you had questions.”  


Kaneki explained, gesturing to the completed novel in Amon’s lap.  
  
  
“You made some…interesting noises. You’re a very active reader.”  
  
  
Amon groaned and covered his face with a single hand ( _he was always like this, moving his body along with his imagination, and he hadn’t even realized he was doing it_ ). Chuckles made the bed creak as Kaneki’s hands fluttered apologetically.  
  
  
“Sorry, I wasn’t making fun of you. I’m glad you enjoyed the books so much; it was fun to watch. I’m fairly confident I can elaborate on any points you were confused about, by the way.”  
  
  
Kaneki stated confidently. Koutarou's breath caught in his chest before he could press down the swell of emotion that hit him. Kaneki’s expression was so open, so inviting, that he wished he could reach out to him. Still, Amon knew he couldn’t use his hands ( _not as casually as Nagachika_ ). Instead, he took Kaneki up on his offer to help.  
  
  
Turns out, there was a lot he didn’t know about the series. One of the Gods had been in love with the Sacrificial Knight. To become God required more than just a sacrifice too; you had to lose a piece of yourself. The Knight was blood-related to one of the other characters, too!  
  
  
Hours slid by as Kaneki rambled about books. He’d stopped talking about the Sacrifice long ago. He’d been sidetracked by the Eternal Champion, then the mythos of some ghost ship, and then something completely different. His every movement was animated by flying hands, a broadening stance, and illustrative uses of random household objects ( _“the ship, it moved like…” then there was suddenly a folded paper boat in Kaneki’s hands or a pencil being tipped back and forth like a seesaw_ ).  
  
  
Amon was enraptured and listening to it all. Kaneki was nesting deeply in a pile of blankets and pillows that seemingly formed curtains and stage. He ducked behind them, covering and uncovering his face, his hands, his feet, all to bring his passions to life. It was strikingly lovely ( _he was entrusted with this_ ).  
  
  
Unbeknownst to either of them, Kaneki and Amon wore broad grins. They moved with each other, leaning forwards on their hands or reclining on their heels. Eventually, they yawned together, snuck glances at one another, and lost track of time.  
  
  
Then they rested together, with Kaneki burrowed in his blankets and Amon to lovestruck to leave.  
  
  
It was peaceful ( _Amon would think of it for many nights to come_ ).

 

  
~~~~~~

  
  
“Good action requires explosions! There is no way around it!”  
  
  
Hide snorted, flapping a hand at Koutarou and turning his nose up.  
  
  
“Action, in order to be exciting, has to have risk associated with it. I need to know that there’s a chance the hero might not make it out alive. They need to be brave!”  
  
  
Koutarou argued back, glaring at Hide’s nose.  
  
  
“Well then, why don’t you like villains? Heroes always survive, but the villain might actually die.”  
  
  
Hide responded. His fingers were interlaced underneath his chin and Kaneki side-eyed them ( _Koutarou fell right into his trap_ ).  
  
  
“Villains are villains! They…they are the antagonist! They destroy things and lives and…”  
  
  
Koutarou was spluttering in outrage now, waving his free arm ( _the other one was wound around the back of the couch over Kaneki’s shoulders. It was warm_ ). Hide waved his free arm back at Koutarou, clearly in mockery ( _his other arm was snugly entwined with Kaneki’s_ ).  
  
  
“So what? Somebody doesn’t have to do good for you to appreciate their complexity and the tension they bring to the story. Villains fill in all the ‘risk’ element for those flat one-dimensional hero-types you like so much.”  
  
  
Kaneki steadily tuned out the bickering, keeping his eyes trained on the grin on Hide’s face and the investment in Koutarou’s. They were both obviously having fun.  
  
  
Though Koutarou was clearly a few years older than either him or Hide, he socialized like someone much younger. He was earnest, easily flustered, and extraordinarily passionate. At first glance, one wouldn’t be able to tell, but him and Hide were proper friends.  
  
  
Kaneki let a smile slip when their arms both tightened around him ( _they were a group of friends, weren’t they?_ ).

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
“I just…it’s like I’ve trampled all over the feelings of others, both in the way I approached ghouls and…how I failed to understand Koharu, Harima, and Akira.”  
  
  
Amon blathered on and on. He was nervous and his palms were sweating ( _the hand he had slapped across his forehead was sticky_ ).  
  
  
“ ** _They did so much for_** me and I just can’t comprehend why. I wound up hurting them because of it. I think I’m still hurting Akira.”  
  
  
He stressed, placing as much emphasis as he could on his confusion and what a terrible person he was.  
  
  
Amon had been having a bad day from the start. He’d woken up from a bad dream about Koharu’s death ( _not quite by his hands…but he was her killer in a sense_ ). When he’d gone to get breakfast, he’d spilt coffee all over Nagachika, then hadn’t even cleaned it up because he’d been so zoned out. Worse, he’d run his hands through Kaneki’s hair on his way past him, making him flinch in shock.  
  
  
**_He was the worst._  
**  
  
Amon was shallow and ignorant. He could never understand the emotions of the people around him ( _he’d been rude to Mado when they’d first met, he’d tried to be a superior to Akira, he’d caused Gori to hate him enough that she tried to poison him with cookies, and…_ ).  
  
  
Nagachika had even told him he sucked. It had been roundabout, but they’d been talking about the CCG and Nagachika had said Amon had never understood Akira. That if he couldn’t understand her, how could he ever hope to understand him or Kaneki.  
  
  
It had stung, then he’d dreamed about it, and now everything felt terrible.  
  
  
Speaking of Nagachika, he was frowning over in his little chair like Amon had intentionally spilt coffee on him or something ( _he felt a little bad about it, if he was being honest_ ).  
  
  
“I didn’t even do anything for them…”  
  
  
Amon mumbled, scuffing his socked feet over the carpet.  
  
  
Kaneki was furtively glancing between him and Nagachika awkwardly. He chewed on his lip before lifting his index tentatively.  
  
  
“I…uh…I have a point I’d like to make…”  
  
  
Kaneki stammered out, wincing a little at the waver in his own voice. Amon and Nagachika both turned to him ( _in sync…that was creepy_ ) and Nagachika nodded at him.  
  
  
“Ok…so…you know they all loved you, right?”  
  
  
Kaneki asked, his expression implying that he thought this was obvious. Nagachika whispered,  
  
  
“ ** _Fucking finally_**.”  
  
  
And thudded his head onto the armrest of his chair. Amon, on the other hand, froze completely.  
  
  
“That’s impossible.”  
  
  
He choked out. He’d never been interested in women ( _that didn’t mean they’d never been interested in him though. That night at the club…_ ).  
  
  
“You made a big impact on their lives. You were straightforward with them, assisted them without expecting anything in return, and showed them honour and resolve. Those are attractive qualities.”  
  
  
Kaneki was being exceptionally blunt ( _though his ears were going a bit pink_ ). Amon was unused to it, had no idea how to take a compliment, and could feel himself going scarlet.  
  
  
He choked on his own spit and began sputtering, thumping his chest.

  
  
  
-POV Change-

  
  
While Koutarou was calming down, Kaneki picked up his chair and dragged it closer to Hide so he could nudge him with his foot.

  
“Stop pouting.”  
  
  
He hissed. Kaneki wasn’t going to ask about whatever the source of this argument was ( _it had to be a fight_ ). If Hide already wasn’t willing to talk about it, it’s probably because he thought it’d make everything worse. Kaneki could respect that.  
  
  
Over these past weeks, Kaneki came to understand that Hide would tell him anything he directly asked about. No secrets were kept if he wanted to know badly enough. Hide wouldn't bring it up first when he thought a topic would be offensive to the present company, however.  


“I just can’t…why did Harima grant me a weapon then? Something I had to carry forever…and Koharu was willing to let everything-“  
  
  
Koutarou was still beating himself up and Kaneki couldn’t stand it.  
  
  
“They thought you could bare it. **_Strong people are given heavy burdens_**.”  
  
  
He tried to explain, however Koutarou’s gaze was wild with incomprehension.  
  
  
“They gave their guilt, their regrets, and their resolve to you. In a way, they gave you a piece of themselves.”  
  
  
He pointed out. Then his own words settled into his gut like he’d swallowed glass. **_A strong person_** …that was exactly what he’d tried to be.  
  
  
( _“Strong people are such pitiable people, aren’t they? Always having to fight for somebody else…” Hadn’t Irimi said that to him once?_ )  


Words from other people mixed up with his own feelings began to tumble out of his mouth ( _the manager, Yomo, Uta, Touka…_ ).  
  
  
“Koharu was brave in her last moments, however dying people are selfish. She probably didn’t realize exactly what she was dumping on your shoulders since she had you on a pedestal and was sheltered…in a strange way.”  
  
  
Koutarou had explained her story, how her human adoptive father had been a cannibal keeping her and another ghoul to hunt and eat the evidence. Koharu hadn’t understood much about the world.  
  
  
“It’s not entirely your fault that she died like that. Or that you disobeyed their dying wishes or whatever, both Harima and Koharu. People shouldn’t take advantage of your honest nature and force their feelings on you.”  
  
  
Hide spat out begrudgingly. He was clearly still mad, however he knew when support was needed.  
  
  
“Many people would say what they did was cruel to you.”  
  
  
Hide muttered, sounding disgusted with the two women ( _Kaneki winced in sympathy for them_ ).  
  
  
“Koharu killed so many people though. Shouldn’t she have more regret or hatred? Shouldn’t she…have done something other than…I don’t even know. Finding solace in me? Giving me her life!? Falling in love with me!?”  
  
  
Koutarou growled, rubbing his knuckles into her sternum ( _Kaneki was sure it would bruise_ ). His incomprehension was understandable, though Kaneki still wanted to provide him with an answer. He could see things from Koharu’s perspective a little ( _which was disturbing_ ).  
  
  
“How can I ever be satisfied with a conclusion that just leads to somebody dying? Everything is just so…unfinished. She made me cupcakes and then tried to die by my hand. I just… ** _how did I influence her to die?_** ”  
  
  
Koutarou's voice was growing high and reedy ( _this conversation was turning into a snarl of negative emotion and confused concepts_ ). Koutarou's guilt tugged at Kaneki's own.  


“I’m not the only one to attract child wannabes. She wanted to be raised right and probably looked up to you as a foundation of morals.”  
  
  
He explained. Koutarou snorted, still upset about how wrong he felt his opinions had been in the past.  
  
  
“Her actions were extremely childish even though they were tempered by the emotional weight of an adult.”  
  
  
Kaneki was struggling to phrase his words properly. Love was a contorted thing. It was possible that Koharu desired Koutarou as a father figure, as something more, or as both. Really, the same could be said for Akira from what he’d heard, though Harima was an absolute mystery.  
  
  
“Could you…be patient with me for awhile? Just don’t say anything.”  
  
  
Koutarou abruptly said, curling inwards on himself. The attempt to shrink looked ridiculous coming from such a big man. Unsure of the change in atmosphere, Kaneki’s eyes slid over to Hide. His friend’s eyebrows were raised, however he signaled a thumbs up at Kaneki.  
  
  
“Sure, Koutarou. That’s fine.”  
  
  
Kaneki responded.  
  
  
There was a lull in which Koutarou’s sternum rubbing grew in intensity ( _his knuckles had gone red and raw_ ). Kaneki watched Hide track the movement, his eyes growing narrower and narrower with each repeated motion. Finally, Koutarou sat stock still.  
  
  
“I could never raise anyone else correctly because I wasn’t raised right.”  
  
  
For the first time, Koutarou’s voice left his throat like nails on a chalkboard ( _there was a smothered scream buried deep inside it_ ). Usually, Kaneki enjoyed listening to him speak, but the raw pain he was expressing grated against his eardrums.  
  
  
“I was raised in a Catholic orphanage with a group of other children. The man who took care of us was a priest. **_He was also a ghoul._** His name was Donato Porpora.”  
  
  
Koutarou’s houndstooth tie was stained with blood from the friction and the tearing skin on his knuckles ( _should Kaneki hold his hand?_ ).  
  
  
“He took care of us all. He remembered our birthdays and always celebrated.”  
  
  
Was that…  
  
  
Was that loneliness…he heard…?  
  
  
“He bought me my first suit. It was for mass. None of the other children got one.”  
  
  
Subconciously, Kaneki’s vision focused on Koutarou’s cross.  
  
  
“He read to me at night about the Lord and comforted me with God’s love. I used to pray in the chapel at dawn, the light streaming in from the sunrise, for his safety. He was both my father and my Father.”  
  
  
The cross wasn’t entirely smooth silver. There was a warped part of it that looked like it had been scorched ( _l **ike the fires of Hell had tried to consume it**_ ).  
  
  
“He ate the children. Every single time one was ‘adopted’ he was actually eating them.”  
  
  
Had there been blood on it once? Had Koutarou held it over an open flame, burning off something that wouldn’t wash or flake away?  
  
  
“The same day he took me to a baseball match, he killed my best friend. When he carried me on his back to town, just because I was worried I was getting too big for it, he murdered the girl I used to steal cookies with. On the day that I picked him a bouquet of flowers, he made a soup stock with the boy everyone thought was my brother.”  
  
  
Horror gripped Kaneki’s heart and was weighing it down. He could feel it sinking into the pit inside him that threatened to swallow up everything he loved. How could Koutarou even look at him? How could he look at any ghoul?  
  
  
**_Was this the reason…he understood him?_**  
  
  
“One day I came home from school early. When I stepped into the prayer room, I saw him eviscerating one of my friends. **_Then he spoke to me_**. ‘Koutarou, who said you could enter?’ and ‘That was a lie. I want you to join me in that lie. With this, playing house finishes.’”  
  
  
Kaneki wretched. Hide seemed like he couldn’t decide who to be more concerned about.  
  
  
“All I could remember in that moment was the appetizers he always made us whenever he had meat lying around.”  
  
  
He wretched harder, his disgust mingling with the flavour he knew human meat had.  
  
  
“I ran away and called the police. I couldn’t believe that my friends had been dead and I had eaten some of them too.”  
  
  
Hide’s eyes went wide and his mouth opened and closed. Koutarou laughed, low and unhappy.  
  
  
“Yes, I’m still alive. He let me go. He’s in Cochlea now. He’s calls me **_his son_** and gives certain bits of information to me and me alone. **_It’s how he gets the CCG to let him see me_**.”  
  
  
Hide suddenly stared right at Kaneki. There was a realization sparking in both of their eyes (“ _Why did you let me live” was the first question they’d heard here…now they knew why_ ).  
  
  
“When I was closest to death, I thought of him. I thought of him more clearly than anyone else, but I can’t bear to look him in the face.”  
  
  
Koutarou’s voice was thickening with unshed tears and decades of anger.  
  
  
“In the past, I couldn’t leave the idea of you alone,”  
  
  
He began, refusing to look at Kaneki, only pointing to him.  
  
  
“Because of the way you left me alive, too.”  
  
  
Even for a ghoul investigator, Koutarou’s story was extreme. It was terrifying and traumatizing.  
  
  
The silence that followed his confession was deafening. All Kaneki could hear was his own heartbeat, Koutarou’s ragged breathing, and the shifting of fabric beside him.  
  
  
“There was no logical reason for Donato to let you go. In fact, leaving you alive essentially ended his life. He could’ve done anything to stop you: he could’ve fled, burnt the place to the ground, killed you, or taken you away. He didn’t though.”  
  
  
Hide stated, analyzing the situation from a critical standpoint. He was frowning stormily, folding his hands in his lap. Koutarou’s breathing only became harder at that analysis ( _it was something he’d thought of many times himself_ ).  
  
  
Something was nagging at Kaneki. It was something all of them were missing. He knew what it was, but was afraid to say it.  
  
  
**_He had to be sure.  
_**  
  
“Could you give me time to think?”  
  
  
Kaneki asked, getting up and pulling Koutarou’s abused left hand away from his chest. He crouched on the ground, cradling Koutarou’s vast palm and long fingers between his own ( _two of his knuckles bled freely and Kaneki suppressed a shiver of delight_ ).  
  
  
“I really want to think about this. Can you give me time?”  
  
  
He repeated, trying his best to hold Koutarou’s startled gaze. He had a nasty habit of only looking at what he was thinking about and right now his thoughts were turned entirely inwards.  
  
  
“I…why?”  
  
  
Koutarou’s face was twisted with anxiety. Kaneki didn’t know how to explain the answer on the tip of his tongue or his powerful desire to give it to him.  
  
  
His shoulders tensed up and then Hide’s arm was wrapped around them. He crouched on the floor as well, peering up at Koutarou’s defensive position.  
  
  
“I believe the two of you have just earned your first private talk session.”  
  
  
Hide declared confidently, patting the hand Kaneki had captured in his.  
  
  
“I think this talk has been pretty stressful all around. Koutarou, if you’d like to take some time to be alone, you are welcome to. Kaneki, you could take that time to think.”  
  
  
Stiffly, Koutarou nodded at Hide and shifted to stand up. Kaneki’s hands spasmed around Koutarou’s, suddenly not wanting to let go. He wasn’t holding on tightly enough however, and it slipped from his grip.  
  
  
“Go think, ‘Neki. ** _I trust you_**.”  
  
  
Hide whispered in his ear. A wave of nervous anticipation rolled over his spine as Kaneki smiled crookedly, giving Hide a thumbs up.  
  
  
He had to do this right.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Alone and lying on his bed, Hide mulled over something that had been bothering him. It had been jabbing needles into his brain for a long time now. It was a little irritating when Kaneki first disappeared and now that he was back it was nearly painful.  
  
  
Kaneki had sat down on the couch after Koutarou had left. He’d stared off into space, just like he used to as a kid. He began cracking his fingers a few minutes in and Hide had chosen to cuddle up next to him.  
  
  
There was an extra joint or something in each of Kaneki’s fingers, because they bent backwards at the tip incredibly easily. To stop the cracking, Hide had begun to play with them, pushing down on the squishy fingers pads and bending the tips back. It was amazing that they were still so soft and callus-free ( _ghoul regeneration he supposed_ ).  
  
  
Though he hadn’t responded outwardly to Hide’s ministrations, Kaneki’s body had leaned into him and his fingers flexed easily. His mind had been faraway, but his body still recognized Hide as its own.  
  
  
He’d only left after Kaneki started to pace ( _leaving his palms cold and empty_ ).  
  
  
Hide closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. He wanted to immerse himself in the emotions he usually cut off ( _the roiling blackness inside his heart, the restraining choking possessiveness, the vicious views he held, and the emotions that weren’t really his_ ).  
  
  
In the depths, Hide could feel Kaneki’s melancholy and the way he’s reaching out to the stories he’s read, the people he’s met, and things that he’s experienced to answer Koutarou’s questions. He’s doing it because Koutarou’s question has become his own.  
  
  
Kaneki was always like that: picking up other people’s important things and blurring the lines of ownership. It was like Kaneki thought he could take away other people’s burdens or that he could share their weight.  
  
  
Kaneki carried pieces of Hide that he’d discarded. It was part of the reason Hide cared for him so much. However, it was also an uncomfortable sight. **_Empathy was a heavy burden_**. It was crushing when you tended to collect sad and difficult things ( _the things people felt most strongly_ ).  
  
  
Hide hated and adored Kaneki’s little habit.  
  
  
He didn’t want him to pick things up from other people, but it also kept Kaneki interesting. It gave him infinite potential to grow, change, and be reborn.  
  
  
Lately, everything in his life was about Kaneki. Hide knew that Kaneki was important; he always had been. Kaneki’s emotions were practically his own. Again, it had always been that way.  
  
  
He also wanted to keep Kaneki to himself, which wasn’t exactly new, but also hadn’t been a problem for a few years. Additionally, Hide was pretty sure that he never wanted to be without Kaneki again. That feeling was a smidge new – he didn’t struggle so much with alone time in the past ( _he’d fought with worry sometimes, however if Kaneki was happy and distant he hadn’t minded much_ ).  
  
  
Had his feelings changed? Hide didn’t think so. The only conclusion he could draw was that they’d simply grown stronger ( _how much stronger could they get? There had been times…dark times…_ ). Maybe only certain aspects had been strengthened, but there was definitely a difference.  
  
  
**_He had changed and so had Kaneki.  
  
_**

Honestly, he had never had to think about these feelings much in the past. There had been flickers of thought, lights in the dark, that had driven him in one direction or the other ( _just after college started…that night at Kaneki’s apartment…or the night he moved out_ ). Still, those sparks hadn’t been enough for him to actually **_look_** before.  
  
  
Kaneki was always just…there. He’d never been gone, never been unfriendly, and had never driven him away. Their relationship had been unwaveringly close: though they spent periods of time without each other, falling back into their old ways was simple.  
  
  
After he’d left, Hide had to admit it felt like he’d lost a piece of himself. Life lacked its usual luster, people bored him, and his stress just kept piling up. Kaneki's melancholic outlook has painted the world in lovely muted tones he just couldn't achieve himself.  
  
  
Even worse, he had worried. Every day, every night, and every second inbetween had been dedicated to anxious thoughts.  
  
  
There had also been jealousy. Kaneki’s time at Anteiku, though it had ceased to bother him, had been a thorn in his side for a long time. The way Kaneki continued to run off with other people had made Hide want to snatch him away. When he discovered the CCG’s designs on Kaneki…Hide had almost considered it a challenge.  
  
  
His rightful place was next to Kaneki. **_That place didn’t belong to anyone else.  
_**  
  
No one else could touch Kaneki like he could ( _his muscles lax and unguarded, his eyes unseeing, but leaning against Hide nonetheless_ ). No one else knew his past ( _a childhood spent entirely together_ ). No one else had been able to reach out and save him ( _though he’d required a partner_ ).  
  
  
He wanted to stay with Kaneki forever. Hide wanted him to smile that matronly smile every morning. He wanted his friend to eat enough meat to be healthy. He wanted his hair to stay soft so he could card his hands through it until the end of time. He wanted to talk about books he’ll never read, games Kaneki will never play, and jokes that neither of them thought were funny but would laugh at anyway.  
  
  
Hide pressed the pads of his fingers to his eyes until he saw stars. His ruminations, now that he was running through them, sounded a lot like romantic love.  
  
  
Of course, Hide wasn’t an idiot. He knew he loved Kaneki. He’s been told all about how much he loves Kaneki since they’d met ( _his parents, classmates, teachers, and almost-girlfriend’s had all said it_ ). He’d never really loved anyone else. He’d never desired anyone sexually either. There had been a gleaming aesthetic glimmer to some people, but that was all.  
  
  
His inexperience made him unsure. Once, just after starting college, he had wondered if he was in love with Kaneki ( _he’d been so bright then, happy, open, and warm as Hide twirled him in the park at night_ ). He’d pondered the same thing again, having a nice family dinner between the two of them.  
  
  
What he felt now couldn’t really compare to then though. His emotions during those times had been lightweight, sparkling, pure things. They’d been entirely focused on a happy future and crushing the awful, petty, shadowed parts of himself. It had been the same love that guided him into making a family for Kaneki.  
  
  
His current love still had a desire for a happy future…but it allowed for less conventional methods of arriving there.  
  
  
Hide was irrevocably sure that he’d still love Kaneki this way even if he went violently insane ( _chittering and running around like a centipede_ ). This adoration inside of him dredged up Hide’s ugly bits and presented them to Kaneki like a gift. No longer focused on anything but their mutual pleasure, this feeling was completely free from the morals that had tied it down in the past.  
  
  
The only border between him and Kaneki had been the darkness Hide could see. He knew how screwed up the world was. Kaneki had been so pure though, somehow soldiering through pain and hurt with an open heart. He couldn’t have looked at all of Hide then. It would have tainted and hurt him ( _society would’ve rejected him_ ). With that border gone…  
  
  
If Hide’s past fervor had been ‘love’ in the friendly or familial sense, was he ‘in love’ now? He wasn’t exactly surprised when the answer was ‘yes’.  
  
  
What kind of love it was didn’t really matter. **_Hide was pretty sure he could be whatever Kaneki desired.  
_**  
  
Quietly pleased with himself, Hide let his eyes open. He still had some doubts: he was pretty sure Kaneki felt the same, however he wasn’t sure how Amon tied into things. He couldn’t possibly know what even Kaneki was unsure of. Still, he was happy to have drawn a conclusion.  
  
  
Knowing was the first step. Action was next.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Pacing back and forth, Kaneki tugged at his bangs and ran his nails over his neck. He was stressing himself out ( _he didn’t know how to stop_ ).  
  
  
He wanted to know more about Koutarou. He wanted to know so much more. All the parallels between them kept floating to the surface of his mind, begging him to pick them up, dry them out, and examine them for hours. They were so alike, yet so different.

  
It was terrifying in the same icy way death was.  
  
  
Kaneki knew how attached he could get to people ( _picking up their pieces and never letting go_ ). Koutarou already had the ability to hurt him emotionally. Even though Kaneki wanted to trust him ( _felt like he could trust him_ ), the idea was so inherently frightening. He was emotionally vulnerable in this place.  
  
  
What did Koutarou really know about him anyway? As these talks continue, as Koutarou got to know him better, would he finally realize Kaneki was a monster? Would he finally realize he lost everything for a monster?  
  
  
Wading through his anxious thoughts, Kaneki focused on finding the quote he knew floated amongst them. It had been there since Koutarou brought up Donato. He needed to find it.  
  
  
There!  
  
  
Kaneki could **_see_** the perspective of the monster. He could identify with it. He’d seen it in Yamori and the white suits that followed him.  
  
  
Donato loved Koutarou and only Koutarou. Only he had mattered to him. ** _It hadn’t changed his nature though_**.  


Donato was probably just lonely, like all things are. He had wanted something to share his life with, something earnest and loyal, and he had found it in a child. **_There was no real meaning to it_**.  


His stomach tied itself in ropes. Could Kaneki actually **_tell_** Koutarou that? Could he really simplify years of pain and anguish into this?  
  
  
Honestly, Donato’s feelings mirrored his own choice to preserve Koutarou at the risk of others ( _that disgusted him_ ). How would this affect Koutarou’s world? How would it affect his opinion of Kaneki?

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
When he finally met up with Koutarou again, Kaneki’s jitters had reached the point of no return. His hands were practically vibrating. He was afraid of having a relapse ( _losing himself to panic_ ).  
  
  
He was even more afraid of not telling Koutarou, though. He was the only one who could see things as both a human and a ghoul. He was the only one who could really talk about this.  
  
  
No matter how badly he wanted to sink himself into the cold and become emotionless, Kaneki knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. He had to be emotionally present to be a source of comfort or to correct his actions.  
  
  
_“Despite your best efforts, people are going to be hurt when it’s time for them to be hurt.”_  
  
  
He told himself repeatedly, trying to gather courage.  
  
  
Soon he was sitting down and facing Koutarou. They both were twitching in nervous anticipation.  
  
  
Koutarou actually looked like he might be sick. Kaneki realized that they both likely thought this was a situation they might regret. This was an opportunity to burn every bridge they’d built to the ground.  
  
  
Kaneki was strong though. He’d always be fucking strong ( _so other people wouldn’t have to be_ ).  
  
  
“What is your exact question, the exact words you’d use to talk to Donato?”  
  
  
Kaneki needed to know. He needed to do this right. Koutarou gazed at him, his jaw clenching and unclenching, before squeezing his eyes shut.  
  
  
“Why did you spare me? Only me? Why is it always you that I think of when it’s time to lose something?”  
  
  
Koutarou’s voice was even and unbroken, but Kaneki could see his lips trembling. Something about it made his chest ache dully. He didn’t want to watch Koutarou breakdown because of him, and so Kaneki’s eyelids fell shut.  
  
  
“He spared you because you were his favourite. He loved you like a son and you loved him like a father.”  
  
  
His voice cracked or his finger did. Kaneki couldn’t be sure.  
  
  
_“You can love a monster, it can even love you back, but it doesn’t change its nature.”_  
  
  
He recited. Koutarou’s voice was raw and rough when he responded.  
  
  
“Love isn’t killing everything I cared about. Love isn’t breaking me apart and rebuilding me for the Hell of it.”  
  
  
Kaneki wanted to hold Koutarou’s head, letting him pour out all of his frustration and sadness, but he needed to keep going. Petty comfort couldn’t do anything for a struggler. It wouldn’t rewrite the past.  
  
  
“This and that were two separate things to him. He kept the deaths hidden from you and didn’t run from his punishment.”  
  
  
Kaneki let the steel slip from his voice for what he had to say next.  
  
  
“Love means different things to different people. Sometimes that’s awful. Donato doesn’t understand you, even if he loves you.”  
  
  
He had seen too many people betrayed by their parents or lovers to miss this. **_Love wasn’t all-encompassing_**. It couldn’t save the world or anything by itself.  
  
  
It could grow into something great and terrible. It could also just be meaningless. A way to pass time. A way to fill a hole in your heart.  
  
  
“All parents are capable of hurting their children. Some can even destroy their kids. We can’t pick and choose who raised us, Koutarou. He’s your father, even if he’s not.”  
  
  
It was fucked up, but wasn’t the entire world a wreck anyway?  
  
  
Koutarou was breathing hard and fast. Kaneki’s vision swam in the blackness and he felt each hot blast flutter against his cheeks. They tattooed a story into his skin: this wasn’t the answer Koutarou wanted or was waiting for.  
  
  
No longer allowing himself the bliss of sightlessness, Kaneki forced his eyes open. Koutarou was watching him with a feral and desperate gaze ( _would he finally do his job and kill him? Had he finally seen the monster in Kaneki?_ ).  
  
  
“Can I…”  
  
  
Kaneki was ready for it. He deserved it. **_He shouldn’t be able to look at something so awful and call it love._**  
  
  
“Can I…hold you? Just…until I forget?”  
  
  
Koutarou begged, the look in his eyes growing more frantic.  
  
  
It took a second, however Kaneki noticed that Koutarou was having a panic attack. Hastily, he nodded, extending his arms outwards ( _he was so confused, so terribly confused, when blows didn't rain down on him_ ).  
  
  
It startled him when Koutarou stood and picked him up much like he had at Aogiri’s hideout. Kaneki clung to his broad chest and shoulders, looping his legs around his hips to avoid sliding downwards. Koutarou’s arms locked around his back and thighs, keeping him comfortably aloft and close.  
  
  
With his face in Koutarou’s neck and Koutarou’s face buried in his hair, Kaneki wrestled with his own emotions. Why was it that they could hold each other so intimately, but holding a conversation was difficult? A brush of the fingers made him flinch, however gathered as he was right now, Kaneki had never felt safer.  
  
  
The top of his head was wet. Koutarou’s chest was heaving against his and the chain around his neck pressed into Kaneki’s cheek. He was crying and soon, so was Kaneki.  
  
  
He couldn’t take back his words. Not when he was so sure. Not when he could **_see_**.  
  
  
Instead of trying to think of something else to say, some platitude, Kaneki resigned himself to whatever would happen next. They were both too exhausted for anything else.

  
They stayed locked like that for a long time. Slowly, their heartbeats synced and warmth built between their bodies. Though Koutarou's hands clenched his thighs harshly, their tears eventually stopped.  
  
  
Eventually, Koutarou’s jaw shifted atop Kaneki’s head.  
  
  
“He made me donuts once…a long time ago. Like a fool…something he couldn’t even taste. I don’t understand. I can’t understand.”  
  
  
The sentences came out scratchy and sorrowful. Each syllable struck Kaneki in the heart (“ _I don’t know if I can ever be sure…but I think she did care_ ”).  
  
  
“ ** _You don’t have to_**.”  
  
  
He murmured back.  
  
  
“ ** _Not yet._** ”  
  
  
Koutarou’s arms tightened around him. Kaneki sighed and sunk even further into his torso gratefully. He was forgiven and accepted, even if Koutarou was struggling with the truth he’d told him. It gave him hope for himself ( _and the answers he would never get_ ).  
  
  
Koutarou’s lips brushed against his scalp, then his cheek settled there ( _a twinge of anxiety hit him, but it was so far away_ ).  
  
  
Had he ever been this comfortable before? He was so warm. It was blissful to breathe with someone else as if you were one.  
  
  
“Dinnertime!”  
  
  
Hide called through the apartment ( _his voice fit perfectly with the picture forming in Kaneki’s head, though the reminder of dinner broke the atmosphere_ ).  
  
  
Awkwardly, Koutarou set Kaneki down on the couch. His ribs creaked audibly when he let go and Kaneki recognized that Koutarou had probably been injured in the raid ( _just like himself and Hide_ ). There were likely fractures.  
  
  
Since he wasn’t sure what to say about it ( _not now, not after that_ ), he lets it go quietly, choosing instead to take Koutarou’s hand and guide him to dinner.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Later that night, a new kind of fear curls low in Kaneki’s stomach. He hopes he isn’t another monster for Koutarou to love.  
  
  
The fear threatens his sleep, already plagued by nightmares, and Kaneki lays awake for a long time. Eventually, he winds up padding into Amon’s room with a room of bandages in hand.  
  
  
“You’re supposed to take care of yourself too.”  
  
  
He grumbled, pressing them tightly into the flustered man’s hands. Seeing him had calmed Kaneki’s nerves somewhat.  
  
  
He quickly headed back to bed ( _what malignant dreams waited for him tonight?_ ).

  
~~~~~~~

  
Feeling refreshed and rested, Hide blundered his way down the halls. He’d woken up a little late, but it put him in a good mood, so who cares? He burst into the kitchen, crowing  
  
  
“Good morning!”  
  
  
To the people inside, then crashed into a chair. He swore under his breath in pain, then realized it was deathly silent.  
  
  
Hide shifted his gaze between Kaneki to Koutarou. Both of them looked drained and run down. Their talk must have been hard on them both, however they were also sitting far closer together than usual.  
  
  
Kaneki was probably struggling with forming and reforming an emotional bond with a relative stranger. Koutarou…might have been unhappy with whatever Kaneki had to say. Though that didn’t seem quite right, Hide figured it was close enough.  
  
  
He brewed himself some morning coffee since Kaneki hadn’t already done it ( _tsk, he would’ve preferred Kaneki’s_ ). Then, an idea struck him as he tried to maintain his cheer.  
  
  
Maybe they should have a ‘positive day’.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
“You both look tired, so I’ve decided to switch things up for today’s talk.”  
  
  
Hide proclaimed, whistling a note or two so that his audience would stay awake. They blearily glared at him, befuddlement obvious in the tilt of their heads.  
  
  
“What?”  
  
  
Kaneki groaned, mock-shielding his eyes from Hide’s beaming.  
  
  
“We’re going to have a positive day! I want to talk about things we like about each other or just positive lessons we’ve learned. Should I start?”  
  
  
He replied, increasing the intensity of his grin when neither man spoke up.  
  
  
“Great! Let’s get this started!”  
  
  
Hide swivelled in his seat, pointing dramatically at Kaneki.  
  
  
“I understand why you ran away from me when you were changed. I’m proud of me and Koutarou for succeeding in this mission. I’m also proud of you for carrying out a mission focused on justice, your defence of other people, and how much self-care you've done by yourself!”  
  
  
The two other men were gaping at him like fish out of water. Koutarou he could understand ( _he never complimented him_ ), but Kaneki?  
  
  
“It was you guys and the staff at Anteiku that drove me to look at myself critically.”  
  
  
Kaneki retorted, blatantly deciding that positive day wasn’t going to be a thing for him.  
  
  
**_Too bad._**  
  
  
“You have the right to be proud of yourself for achieving something difficult even if you didn’t do it alone.”  
  
  
Hide responded smugly. Koutarou wasn’t the only one who was easy to bait after all.  
  
  
“I’m impressed by how much Koutarou has been willing to grow and change as a person. You really seem like a man who can change the world, y’know?”  
  
  
Kaneki and Koutarou were both extremely flustered. They’d even turned matching shades of pink.  
  
  
“I feel like you’ll keep us two trouble makers on the right path.”  
  
  
Hide said, patting Kaneki’s shoulder a few times ( _watching and waiting for a flinch that never came. Looks like their relationship was in good shape, so no nightmares about Hide last night_ ).  
  
  
“I’d also like to declare that Kaneki is exceptionally cute with mussed up bedhead.”  
  
  
This was so much fun! Why didn’t he do this more frequently?  
  
  
“Now,”  
  
  
He began with a cheeky wink,  
  
  
“I expect to hear something nice about myself.”  
  
  
Kaneki and Koutarou glanced at each other. Interestingly, Kaneki slowly started getting redder. It only worsened when Hide grinned at him mischievously.  
  
  
“For every five seconds you hesitate, I’ll say something else that’s nice.”  
  
  
He cackled. Koutarou looked horrified and began to blurt compliments.  
  
  
“Kaneki brings out the best in people just by being there.”  
  
  
Hide spoke over Koutarou’s muttered,  
  
  
“You’re intelligent.”  
  
  
Five more seconds passed, then another, and another, and a pattern was established between himself and Koutarou.  
  
  
“Koutarou’s morals and hold over himself are ironclad.”  
  
  
“Nagachika! Your plans are great?”  
  
  
“Your determination is exceptional and your spine is made of steel, Koutarou darling.”  
  
  
“I respect your perseverance in the face of adversity!!”  
  
  
“Real original, Koutarou. Really, you’re touching my heart here. Kaneki is in tune with social atmospheres and moves with them easily, even though they stress him out. He’s gentle and steady like a guiding hand.”  
  
  
Try as Koutarou might to stem the tide, he’d have to do better than that.  
  
  
“I…shit…your hair is a cool colour?”  
  
  
“Kaneki’s mind sees art everywhere! He’s makes everything beautiful, often in a melancholy way that is hard to capture but tugs at the heartstrings like Koutarou’s weak-ass compliments never could. Kaneki is also extremely kind, has soft hair, and-“  
  
  
“You have a great sense of timing, both comedically and in planning.”  
  
  
Kaneki cut in abruptly. His face had gone completely scarlet. It made his hair reflect pink around his ears and forehead ( _it was super cute!_ ).  
  
  
“I’m proud to be your friend. You’ve achieved so much since I met you.”  
  
  
He continued, beginning to ramble.  
  
  
Oh no, Hide might actually understand why Kaneki was blushing so hard. If he wasn’t mistaken, Kaneki was mentally reciting a list ( _he was counting down on his fingers_ ).  
  
  
Did he have a “Great Things About Hide List?”. He’d better, because that was **_amazing._**  
  
  
“You pick things up really easily and don’t ever let talent go to waste!”  
  
  
“You dress like a dork but still manage to be fashionable!”  
  
  
“You always manage to put a positive spin on things. I also really like your jokes.”  
  
  
Really, this was making his heart pick up speed.  
  
  
“You’re more important to me than…than…”  
  
  
Kaneki trailed off, burying his face in his hands. Hide knew he had an ear-splitting grin on. There was no way he didn’t, not when his cheeks ached this much.   
  
  
“Mmmm, that’s what I like to hear. **_I love you, Kaneki_**.”  
  
  
He cheered, trying out a slightly new inflection in his statement. Koutarou didn’t seem to notice, but Kaneki’s smile dropped a little and his head tilted in question. Hide plowed onwards, not waiting for his friend to get his bearings ( _he had a lesson to wrap up_ ).  
  
  
“We’ve all learned a lot about empathy recently, haven’t we? Even if it’s slow, we’re making progress. We’re bridging the gap between us.”  
  
  
Surprisingly, Hide saw Kaneki nodding. Closer inspection revealed a self-deprecating tilt to his mouth however, and Hide knew Kaneki thought only his change contributed to his empathy. He was probably agreeing mostly for their sakes.  
  
  
Idiots. He was surrounded by idiots.  
  
  
Hide sighs, about to say something else, when he is interrupted.   
  
  
“I do want to change this world.”  
  
  
The sentence slips out, dreamlike, but then sinks like a stone between them ( _whatever he had wanted to say died in Hide's throat_ ). Koutarou looks embarrassed and covers his mouth. It took a second for Hide to realize it was Koutarou who spoke.  
  
  
“Hmm.”  
  
  
Kaneki hums agreeably. Koutarou’s statement wasn’t one that could be made right now, not without violating their rules, and so they mutually allowed it to slip away.  
  
  
“Alright, that’s the end of this meeting.”  
  
  
Kaneki said, taking control in a startling fashion. He looked much better now, though dark circles remained smudged below his eyes.  
  
  
“Hide, am I allowed to start exercising again yet?”  
  
  
He asked, getting up and stretching out his legs. Hide contemplated his question, rolling it around thoroughly before responding.  
  
  
“We can all exercise together. We have to keep pace with one another though.”  
  
  
He finally stated. Kaneki gave him a sharp look that said he knew what he was planning ( _he was intentionally limiting how far the muscleheads could push themselves with his own human fragility_ ).  
  
  
The challenge in his gaze sputtered out quickly however ( _much faster than before_ ), and Kaneki nodded contentedly. Koutarou grinned as well, brilliantly happy to be able to move again.  
  
  
Positive days would definitely be implemented again in the future.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
The meat in the fridge has been cut much more thinly than it should be.  
  
  
Hide glared at the nearly translucent piece in his hands. He hadn’t wanted to root through the fridge behind Kaneki’s back, however it was obviously a necessity.  
  
  
Frowning to himself, he opening the package and soaked each slice in blood. He left it exposed to the air for long enough that it coagulated before stuffing the mess back into the fridge.  
  
  
Hopefully…he could forget about this ( _his doubts piled up_ ).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions, comments, and critiques are appreciated! Seriously, it's how I know whether or not to keep some stylistic changes I've made or when to change focus. Is the chapter dragging? Is there something you'd like to see more of? Preferred POVs? Just things you like? Tell me about them in the comments or hit me up @ purgatoryandme.tumblr.com if you want to be anon.


	26. Seeds (Part 4/6)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeds are spread through many means. Air, water, and animals may carry them. Fire may set them free. It is the environment that they are born into that changes them. 
> 
> This chapter has some uncomfortable sexual themes in reference to the past. It also discusses unhealthy attachments, torture, PTSD, amorality, and inexcusable actions. It's pretty common in literature for cannibalism to have sexual connotations, and I noticed a theme in the people who tried to eat Kaneki so...
> 
> BTW there's some references to 'Deliverance' here. You don't need to read it to understand, but it contains elaborations on Amon's thoughts towards Mado. There's also a reference to Amon's TG novel 'Heat Haze'.

_“’Sword or shield, it’s your feelings that matter.’ The Count reprimanded her as she dragged herself to her feet. She wanted to be a knight though her equipment was heavy and so was her heart. Would she ever learn to fight as well as defend?”_  
  
  
Kaneki read aloud from the fantasy novel in his lap. He’d been reading for hours, however his audience showed no signs of needing to move ( _in fact, Hide looked like he might cry_ ). Kaneki took a moment between pages to drink his situation.  
  
  
Koutarou’s thighs were pressed against his in a fashion he’d been uncomfortably aware of since chapter 6. Every stretch, heartbeat, and twitch in that muscled leg transferred directly to his ( _it didn’t help that Koutarou’s body temperature ran hot like a furnace_ ). It was maddening.  
  
  
Actually, it wasn’t terrible. It was just really really distracting, like a spot on your glasses or a strand of hair on your nose.  
  
  
Hide’s arm slung around his shoulders made for some pretty sharp contrast. He hadn’t even noticed it there until he’d rolled his arm ( _it was cramping_ ). Hide’s body was similar to a blanket to him. It was draped all over him, however it didn’t have any meaning beyond comfort.  
  
  
What was he even thinking? Maybe this was just highlighting his level of familiarity with them both. He’d known Hide for years. It made sense that he’d treat them differently.  
  
  
Then…when would Koutarou stop being a stranger to him ( _unconsciously, he snuggled himself deeper into Hide’s side to sate a craving he couldn’t name_ )?

  
  
~~~~~~

  
Kaneki was back in the purple pulsating land of his dreams. He could recognize that it wasn’t real, though his ability to do so was fragmented at best. Every time the ground beneath his feet throbbed, a flicker of doubt made him close his eyes ( _it’s not real, it’s not real_ ).  
  
  
As if it were an overripe fruit, the earth split open wetly. Though the exterior was the angry violet of a fresh bruise, a lump on the interior was a shiny crimson. It looked like a tongue.  
  
  
The tumourous thing twitched and began to swish in a side to side motion. Kaneki felt him stomach cramp uncomfortably and he shrank away ( _it looked like a monster licking its lips_ ).  
  
  
When he tried to summon the fire that invariably saved him ( _a symbol that things were different now_ ), all he got was laughter in response. It was feminine and familiar.  
  
  
The ache in his intestines worsened.  
  
  
“Kaneki, so soft, so sweet…”  
  
  
The earth itself was shifting, forming great violet lips. The red tongue poked out between them and thrust outwards towards him. He stumbled back, terrified, and tripped.  
  
  
Kaneki’s back scraped against the ground. From his injury a numbness spread ( _one he had felt before_ ). Terror gripped him again, but his body wouldn’t move.  
  
  
“Would you like to come to the Ghoul Restaurant with me, Kaneki-kun?”  
  
  
**_What was this!?  
_**  
  
Tsukiyama was an ally, however begrudging he may pretend to be, and could be trusted. Why was he…  
  
  
The numbness had extended into paralysis. It was just like back then, when he was naïve enough to almost be…eaten.  
  
  
His stomach cramped. It felt like his insides were being stirred up.  
  
  
“Oh? Why do you look so scared?”  
  
  
“Don’t you trust us?”  
  
  
Twin voices echoed through the disgusting scenery. Neither voice truly belonged to the faces emitting it, Kaneki knew that. They were fundamentally wrong somehow.  
  
  
He didn’t want to look at whatever was approaching him. He wanted to wake up.  
  
  
Desperately, Kaneki rolled his eyes skyward ( _he could fly free or burn to ashes, but either way the sky would set him loose_ ). Instead of the roiling stormclouds he was accustomed to, there was only blackness. No stars. No moon.  
  
  
It was like a ceiling.  
  
  
The earth beneath his cheek was cooling rapidly. It had taken on a smooth texture that he never wanted to encounter again. It was tile, he knew it was tile, but he didn’t want to look ( _his eyes were screwed tightly shut_ ).  
  
  
Why was looking so frightening?  
  
  
What didn’t he want to see?  
  
  
“I think I deserve the first bite. I took him on more dates than you did.”  
  
  
Not-Tsukiyama was saying. His statement was followed by a slurp that made Kaneki shiver.  
  
  
“You tried to seduce his mind, I tried to seduce his body. Since his body was so…fond of me, I should be the one to devour it.”  
  
  
Not-Rize sounded childlike, almost as if she were pouting. It was so impossibly wrong.  
  
  
An ache in his shoulder forced Kaneki’s eyes open. His first fervent thought was,  
  
  
“Are they eating me!?”  
  
  
But no damage had been dealt. He wasn’t bleeding. He shouldn’t even be able to feel anything, pinned down by drugs.  
  
  
“MINE! THAT’S MINE!”  
  
  
A reply wretched its way into Kaneki’s throat. His tongue and lips couldn’t move, however he heard his response clear as day.  
  
  
“Nothing in this place is yours.”  
  
  
A flicker of fire burst into life in the corner of his eyes and Kaneki rejoiced. The dancing reds and oranges reminded him of Touka’s kagune. He reached for it, filled with the strength of another…  
  
  
Then realized his arms still weren’t moving.  
  
  
There were three people standing around him. Two were using their feet to pin down his arms. One bent down to breathe in his face.  
  
  
“Oh? I believe that anything I desire belongs to me. You gave it to me.”  
  
  
Yamori whispered, rancid puffs of air leaving his mouth. There was desire glowing in his eyes. It was a lust to dominate, a thirst for power, and sadistic glee.  
  
  
That look was aimed at him. He’d seen it before.  
  
  
“You were a fool, so naïve, and then you were used by me.”  
  
  
Rize’s voice grated against his ears ( _Not-Rize, Not-Yamori, they aren’t REAL_ ).  
  
  
“ ** _You let me touch you_**.”  
  
  
She was still speaking and running her hands over his abdomen.  
  
  
“ ** _And I broke you_**.”  
  
  
God, she sounded so satisfied.  
  
  
Tsukiyama made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat and swatted away her hands. He delicately caressed Kaneki’s shoulder. His careful touch made the sting of betrayal so much worse when he sneered.  
  
  
“ ** _I desired you_**. You trusted that desire, then I nearly killed you.”  
  
  
Tsukiyama had never mocked him before ( _he would never, not now, not after everything_ ).  
  
  
“If Touka hadn’t been in that church, I would’ve had you. My greatest desire: to eat Kaneki-kun while he’s eating.”  
  
  
This was revolting ( _his useless body heaved and was slammed back into the ground by Yamori_ ).  
  
  
“ ** _I’d hurt you in a very intimate way_**.”  
  
  
Please…no…  
  
  
“ ** _You belong to us._** We wanted you and then we used you.”  
  
  
That wasn’t true. He had changed.  
  
  
“Desires of the flesh will only cause you pain. Sex is just another way to eat someone. Intimacy is a prelude to manipulation. Everyone who has ever touched you has done it to-“  
  
  
Faintly, Kaneki was aware of the fact that he was screaming. His strength faded as the sound grew louder ( _blocking out those horrible words_ ).  
  
  
Whatever he had been wearing was gone, replaced with a soft blue sweater, black slacks, and wooly socks. He hadn’t dressed like that since he’d been human. Since he’d been _weak weak so pathetically weak just another toy just another tool -_  
  
  
There were hands on his body and lust in their eyes.  
  
  
_ALL THEY WANTED TO DO WAS EAT, TEAR, TOUCH, HURT, BREAK  
  
  
stainstainstainstainhisskininmottledcrimsonandviolet-  
  
  
_ A broken roar of outrage overcame the voices that had crawled inside his head. He had changed! He was strong!  
  
  
**_He wouldn’t let himself be consumed._**  
  
  
“ ** _Don’t touch me_**.”  
  
  
He growled, bucking his hips to toss off those who stepped on him.  
  
  
“ ** _No one has the right to touch me_**.”  
  
  
The roar was getting closer to him, filling up his ears, and he could make out chittering in the din.  
  
  
“ ** _I won’t let anybody_** ,”  
  
  
He was chittering along with them, the centipedes in the landscape, the swarm that had overtaken the ground and the sky.  
  
  
“ ** _Own me_**.”  
  
  
Rize was being consumed by black and red bodies but she was stilling laughing. Kaneki could only assume Yamori and Tsukiyama had already been eaten.  
  
  
“What will you do then, Kaneki?”  
  
  
Her open mouth was filling with insects.  
  
  
“ ** _Kill everyone who desires you?_** ”

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Kaneki woke up with fear perched on his chest. It smelt of guilt, self-hatred, and an overwhelming need for control. **_He was spiraling out of control…_**  
  
  
Listlessly, Kaneki stood up, ignoring the pinpricks on his pectorals ( _electric oversensitivity, a sensation accompanying anxiety_ ). He was sweaty and disgusting, though that was far too commonplace for him to bother with a shower now. He also felt sick to his stomach, so eating wasn’t an option either.  
  
  
All he really wanted was to train. He wanted to lose himself in repeated motions, the burn ( _a golden fire, something safe and warm, **something that betrayed him**_ ) in his lungs blocking out his thoughts.  
  
  
Kaneki couldn’t even do that without waking up the others. He was too detached to be angry about it either.  
  
  
Dead on his feet, he wandered out of his room, not bothering to change out of his rumpled pajamas. They were white just like his immediate surroundings. It was comforting ( _no violet, no crimson, no black_ ).  
  
  
When he reached the kitchen, the prickling of Kaneki’s skin grew unbearable. He clenched his teeth tightly and ignored Hide’s frozen expression as he walked past ( _wasn't everyone supposed to be asleep? How late was it?_ ). He was almost at his goal ( _the mugs_ ) when it happened.  
  
  
Koutarou reached out a tentative hand. It was no more than an extension of his arm and a twitch of his fingers. Still, Kaneki recoiled from it like a rabid animal.  
  
  
Distantly, Kaneki felt himself flick his gaze to every possible escape route and threat. He felt the tugging under the skin of cheek that indicated the formation of his kakugan’s veins.  
  
  
Then he saw the crushed look on Koutarou’s face. It made him return to himself ( _stopped him from floating away_ ) and shame settled over him like a wet towel.  
  
  
He’d noticed it awhile ago, but Koutarou was capable of locking up his emotions behind an iron wall of determination. Kaneki watched the hurt in his eyes disappear as Koutarou retracted his hand and exhaled through his nose.  
  
  
“Is today a no-touching day?”  
  
  
He asked, almost as if he were making small talk.  
  
  
Kaneki tilted his head in confusion. Much to his embarrassment, he couldn’t bring himself to go closer to the man or uncross his arms. His body language was very conducive to relaying his bewilderment.  
  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
  
He forced the question out of his throat ( _it had closed up on him without his permission_ ).  
  
  
It seemed to be Hide’s turn to join in, because he spoke up from his chair at the table.  
  
  
“It’s possible…probably really…that you’re suffering from PTSD due to all the violence you’ve encountered. Though I don’t know the all the details about what you’ve seen, it seems logical that you would want to avoid certain stimuli that trigger a fight-or-flight reflex in you.”  
  
  
Hide blinked at him, then gestured to Koutarou’s hand very slowly.  
  
  
“Like touch.”  
  
  
Was this what his life was now? Would Kaneki just hurt everyone close to him because he couldn’t handle physical contact? It made sense when he was in the midst of something stressful, then reactions like that were natural, but would he just wake up like this now!?  
  
  
Would he attack Hinami if she wanted hugs?  
  
  
What about Touka? If she punched him, what would he do?  
  
  
“To be honest, the scent of fresh blood makes me…fizzle out? I think the term is dissociate. I think the last raid did a number on me, stress-wise.”  
  
  
Hide’s smooth voice sliced through his train of thought. When Kaneki shifted his attention to him, he noticed that Hide’s eyes were glassy and distant.  
  
  
“I’m not really sure why…I can pour it from a pitcher…”  
  
  
Hide trailed off, his fingers picking absently at the patchy scars on his arms.  
  
  
“Whenever Donato makes a certain face, I always lapse into a blind rage. Shinohara explained to me that it was defensive, but I’m not so sure.”  
  
  
Koutarou held up three fingers, ticking one down.  
  
  
“I can’t really go into churches. The typical tiny Catholic church might as well be the mouth of Hell to me. The last time I tried to enter one I had a panic attack.”  
  
  
Another finger fell. Only Koutarou’s index remained. A half-moon scar curled around the nail and caught Kaneki's eye for a moment.  
  
  
“Seeing quinques broken also…does things to me. My body automatically moves into defense mode. Even thinking about it makes me…uncomfortable.”  
  
  
A muscle in Koutarou’s jaw jumped and he lowered the last finger. Hide visibly gathered himself in his seat, straightening out his collar and patting away imaginary dust.  


“If something aggravated your memory and caused you to have flashbacks, you’ll be as twitchy as you were during your trauma. Times like these are best spent without external stimuli.”  
  
  
Hide explained. Wasn’t it just Kaneki who was sensitive to touch ( _because of…_ )?  
  
  
“Loud noises, bright lights, or being touched, even by someone you love, can be too reminiscent of a threat. It just isn’t something you want around you.”  
  
  
Hide continued. He seemed like he was in a little pain, but quickly covered it up before going on.  
  
  
“I find that I want contact, though that’s because I was never really attacked or worried for my own safety during the raid. It’s different for everybody depending on what their triggers are.”  
  
  
Koutarou hummed in agreement, his hands locked in tight fists.  
  
  
It was disappointing to discover that he was the only one who couldn’t bear to be touched ( _even if there were others who felt the same, they weren't with him now_ ). Kaneki’s stomach twisted itself into knots and he had to concentrate to stop wringing his hands. So this was because of his…trigger.  
  
  
He knew what the word meant, of course. He’d encountered it while reading ( _like so many others_ ). The event that triggered him…  
  
  
He hadn’t exactly tracked any of his symptoms. Fighting, attacking, always watching his own back had been a reflex for so long. He would have died without it.  
  
  
He’d been grateful for it. Desperately pathetically grateful.  
  
  
He’d indulged it, too. He’d let it grow, trusting himself to always be in a position of strength, a position where dominance and aggression were beneficial. He hadn’t accounted for being here, being weak, and being forced to open up his head and his heart on a daily basis.  
  
  
Still, his dreams…  
  
  
It was always worse after he dreamed. The niggling doubt in him always grew when he thought of **_that time_**.  
  
  
It wasn’t their talk time yet. He had a few hours to think.  
  
  
Stiffly, Kaneki muttered out,  
  
  
“I’m going back to my room.”  
  
  
And shuffled away from the kitchen. He wanted to sit in the dark for awhile.  
  
  
He had to have a chat with his demons.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
When they sat down for their talk with the lights down low and a wider distance between them than usual, Kaneki found he couldn’t stop talking. The sound of his own voice soothed the panic that ebbed and flowed with his memories.  
  
  
He had just enough sense left to wonder if it was because Yamori had taped his mouth for much of his torture.  
  
  
Koutarou and Hide were wonderful allies. Kaneki tried his best to engrave their silence into his memory as he spilt the messier details of Rize’s attack, the Ghoul Restaurant, his weakness, and the day he was captured.  
  
  
Words couldn’t describe his torture. Kaneki didn’t even try to detail it. All he managed to confess was the bare bones of it: RC suppressants, a centipede, the counting, and the choice he’d been given.  
  
  
Koutarou had filled in the other details for him as he repeatedly cracked his finger ( _back and forth, back and forth_ ). He explained to Hide how the suppressants worked, why his nails were black, what Yamori fed him, and how he’d left Yamori’s still-breathing body behind.  
  
  
 Kaneki supposed Hide had already guessed these things. He’d given away bits and pieces throughout their talks. It was enough for someone like Hide to understand.  
  
  
Not to say he wasn't deeply indebted to Koutarou anyway. He couldn’t have given all the details alone. He knew the whole story needed to be laid out once and for all…but he just couldn’t.

  
He just couldn’t ( _screaming, laughter, the beating of his heart and his feet on the floor. They’d splashed in pools of his own blood, sweat, and tears_ ).  
  


The whole talk was a mess. Kaneki was crying and he was certain they still didn’t understand all the after-effects of his trauma. He didn’t understand them either, so it’s not like he could blame them.

  
Still, if Hide and Koutarou had tried to wring it out of him, Kaneki thinks he would never speak to them again. Not for want of trying. The experience just would have been too terrible to face (t _oo similar to other confessions of weakness pulled from him in that room_ ).  
  
  
This way was better ( _even if better was still bad_ ). He’d been able to look to Koutarou, **_someone who had seen it_** , whenever the memories threatened to swallow him whole. Then he’d been able to look to Hide and see fresh murder in his eyes.  
  
  
It may be perverse, to dump his burden on them like this, however it made the shaking in his hands stop.  
  
  
He’d faced so much more horror after Yamori, but somehow it paled in comparison to those days and nights.  
  
  
Maybe there was more to his story. Kaneki didn’t care either way.  
  
  
He had finally told them about the most important piece. He told them what haunted him. It hadn’t scared them away ( _even though this story ended with him as a villain, tearing off Yamori’s limbs and leaving him to die, as well as destroying the Ghoul Restaurant single handedly, killing everyone inside_ ).  
  
  
Blankets settled around him and the murmur of voices slowly dragged him away from **_that time_**. Books were piled on the arm of the loveseat. A bloody mug of coffee was placed atop them.  
  
  
The mug wormed its way into his hands without thought. He drank from it deeply, savouring the taste. It heated his frigid body and the blankets kept him warm.  
  
  
The books weren’t interesting. He’d read them all before. It was soothing in its own way and allowed him to tune in and out of the quiet conversations around him though.  
  
  
It took awhile to feel alive again. His nerves were still too frayed for contact and a part of him remained trapped in the past, but now Kaneki was tired.  
  
  
**_He was defenceless, wasn’t he?_**  
  
  
No – he was being cared for. **_He’d be watched over._**  
  
  
If nightmares woke him screaming, at least they’d understand.

  
~~~~~~

  
Watching Kaneki sleep, Hide was consumed by an unbearable urge. He wished he could go back in time. He wished he’d strangled the life out of Yamori when they’d first met.  
  
  
He didn’t even care if Yamori could crush him like an ant. Hide still wished he’d tried to kill him.  
  
  
He was so close to saying something, to letting the swamp of dark emotions leave his mouth with suggestions and threats _(“We could still kill everyone Yamori loved. Even if he didn’t love anyone, we could kill the people who loved him. There has to be someone. **There’s always someone.** ”_).  
  
  
Koutarou appeared in his line of sight, concealing Kaneki behind his body. His gigantic hands gripped Hide’s shoulders crushingly and he stared him down.  
  
  
“Do. Not.”  
  
  
He gritted out. His voice was quiet ( _so as to not wake Kaneki_ ) and deadly.  
  
  
“You’re too involved in each other’s lives. Keep your head on straight, Nagachika.”  
  
  
‘Or else’ wasn’t as heavily implied as usual. Maybe Koutarou was getting soft on him. Either way, the reminder to stay in his own mind was helpful. He’d nearly screwed up ( _don’t break the rules_ ).  
  
  
The fact that he still wanted to screw up could go to Hell.  
  
  
Deciding to anchor himself, Hide placed his hand onto Koutarou’s shoulder. Then he yanked hard, bringing them tumbling to the soft carpet below.  
  
  
Koutarou grunted in befuddlement when Hide curled into his side.  
  
  
“Shut up. We’re going to sleep here.”  
  
  
Hide reprimanded him, jabbing his ribs with a single finger. It felt like he’d poked a steel beam, but Koutarou twitched anyway.  
  
  
“Fine.”  
  
  
He muttered, shrugging out of his suit jacket and folding it into a pillow.  
  
  
“Just don’t drool on me, Nagachika.”  
  
  
Hide fisted his hands into Koutarou’s cotton dress shirt and wriggled until his head was resting comfortably on his arm.  
  
  
“Oh, don’t worry. I will.”

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
When Kaneki awoke, he refused to move for a long time. After all, he’d hate to disturb the scene before him.  
  
  
His best friend was wrapped around his…other friend like a leech. He looked positively delighted with himself, smug even in sleep. Koutarou, on the other hand, was frowning thunderously.  
  
  
Kaneki had to suppress tired laughter when he spotted the reason why. There was a wet patch on Koutarou's dress shirt. There was another wet patch on Hide’s face.  
  
  
Hide didn’t usually drool. Somehow, it just made everything funnier.

  
~~~~~~

  
The next morning, Kaneki was still keyed up about little things. Their last conversation had been stressful enough to warrant a day off.  
  
  
Amon and Nagachika mostly left him to do his own thing. However, they always stayed within reach ( _Amon wished he could be closer_ ).  
  
  
Over dinner, Kaneki softly admitted that he’d probably never be able to feel safe in unfamiliar environments. His confession escaped him with an air of defeat that had Amon and Nagachika exchanging looks.  
  
  
“It’s a reflex. Though it makes you anxious, you developed it to keep yourself safe.”  
  
  
Nagachika had rationalized, frowning and running his hands through his hair.  
  
  
“What can we do to help?”  
  
  
He’d followed up with, glancing at Amon. They’d talked about what they should do earlier, though they had eventually come to the conclusion that they didn’t know. Only Kaneki could predict his attacks at this point.  
  
  
“Can we develop a signal or something? The nightmares really set me off, so I’ll be screwed up in the mornings most often.”  
  
  
Kaneki hesitantly mentioned. Amon had raised both eyebrows at that. Kaneki never ceased to impress him with his ability to critique his own symptoms and work around them. He knew Kaneki had only developed a solution because he realized he was hurting them and not because he was hurting himself, which was still not great, but progress was progress.  
  
  
“Of course. That’s a great idea, actually. What were you thinking of?”  
  
  
He had responded, trying to curb the enthusiasm in his tone.  
  
  
They’d come up with a hand sign, a simple thumbs up or down, that wouldn’t be performed accidentally. Though it would only work in the mornings and not during sudden flashbacks, it was something.  
  
  
Amon thought it could have future use for the rest of them, especially if he worked with Nagachika again in the field. Dissociating when exposed to blood was probably going to be pretty nasty to deal with. Recognizing the signs quickly would be important.  
  
  
They’d all agreed not to touch Kaneki when there was a thumbs down. The lights would be turned down, they would speak softly, and would approach him carefully if they needed anything.  
  
  
Kaneki had pointed out that he could still go through talk sessions when he was feeling bad. He didn’t want more ‘days off’ in the future.  
  
  
Amon had requested that, if he were to experience any flashbacks, the same rules would apply to him. His request had made Kaneki smile melancholically and had his chest feel tight.  
  
  
Nagachika had stated that if he were to ‘zone out’ that somebody stick close to him. He had looked at Kaneki the entire time, but Amon had the funniest feeling that he was included in ‘somebody’ too.  
  
  
When the rules were completely laid out, Kaneki had retreated back into his room and had shut the door. Amon had turned to Nagachika just on time to see loneliness skitter off of his face. Gruffly, he had patted him on the head as he strolled past.  
  
  
He had turned on the TV and settled in to watch a movie. If it just so happened to be one of Nagachika’s favourites, well, Amon would deny picking it intentionally.

  
  
~~~~~~

Another day slipped by ( _they all passed so quickly now…it scared him_ ). After catching himself staring after Kaneki for the umpteenth time, Amon decided he was long overdue for some alone time. He didn’t even have to make any excuses; the others were already distracted and distant.  
  
  
He holed himself up in his bedroom and got into position to do some push-ups. His ribs twinged painfully and reminded him that he wasn’t allowed to work out alone. Releasing a frustrated groan, Amon glared at the walls.  
  
  
He’d prefer not to think. Thinking didn’t come all the naturally to him (“ _It’s instinct, my boy! Just let yourself move!_ ”). However, it didn’t seem like he could away with avoiding it.  
  
  
With a no-touching rule firmly in place, tiny flinches, wary looks, and awkward moments of warm trust…Amon had to wonder if his obvious feelings were pressuring Kaneki.  
  
  
Kaneki hated himself bitterly. Amon knew that. He knew that Kaneki would have trouble accepting love no matter how hard he tried. He knew Kaneki was working on that.  
  
  
Amon also knew that Kaneki soaked up intimate affection from Nagachika like a sponge more often than not. Though he rejected him at times, it wasn't nearly the same way he turned Amon down. He'd seek out Amon in many of his most vulnerable moments, but it was Nagachika that he trusted with his daily life.  
  
  
It was Nagachika that he trusted with his mind ( _his soul_ ).  
  
  
Nagachika’s fingertips were always brushing over Kaneki. They ran over his clothes, his hair, his skin.  
  
  
It started a burning inside of Amon’s belly. If he could, he knew Nagachika would always be touching Kaneki ( _like children holding hands wherever they went…it was reassurance_ ).  
  
  
He couldn’t do that. Amon knew he couldn’t do that.

   
He had to wonder if it was because he didn’t look at Kaneki like Nagachika did. The other man’s eyes, for someone so manipulative, were completely without desire. He didn’t want anything other than Kaneki’s constant content presence.

   
Nagachika felt jealousy of course. He was definitely possessive. But once Kaneki was lying next to him, all of that faded away. 

  
The only reason he got nervous without touching Kaneki was probably because he was used to doing exactly that. It let him know Kaneki hadn’t disappeared on him. Not like before.  
  
  
Nagachika and Kaneki would all too willingly die in each other’s arms. Their bond was disturbingly intense ( _the way Kaneki had broken down over Nagachika in one of their first sessions was something he’d never forget_ ). Nagachika would never leave Kaneki unless he was explicitly asked to and even then he’d probably still disobey.  
  
  
Nagachika’s feelings would probably never fade. Kaneki would always have him in his heart. No matter how much either of them changed.  
  
  
Amon had seen some of the more frightening looks on Nagachika’s face. He didn’t feel any differently about the Centipede than he did about Kaneki. If Kaneki really wanted to tear him to pieces, if he hadn’t been crying out for help all this time, Nagachika might happily let him. He'd probably enjoy destroying himself.

  
Amon wasn’t like that. He couldn’t just overlook his own values. If Kaneki became a true monster, he might even kill him ( _did that mean he loved him less or more?)_.

   
Even on a lesser level, his feeling differed from Nagachika’s. When his skin contacted Kaneki’s, when he was close enough to exchange heat, when he could smell him, see him, Amon wanted to drown himself in Kaneki. 

  
The edge of intensity that had come with their life or death meeting had faded a bit. The burning wasn’t as bad as before. However, the desire to touch, to hold, to get some kind of reciprocation…it hadn’t left him.  
  
  
Even though he desired Kaneki, physically, emotionally, whatever it may be…it didn’t rule him. Amon had a hold on his emotions. He didn’t want to burden him.  
  
  
It was unfortunate that Kaneki was as sensitive as he was. Otherwise Amon would probably hide this feeling forever.  
  
  
He was willing to wait. An eternity could pass before he’d even hint that he loved Kaneki. He didn’t even need Kaneki to ever feel the same ( _though the thought of reciprocation made him feel like he was flying_ ).  
  
  
There was a mellowness underneath his feelings, something that was satisfied with proving itself, something that only desired Kaneki’s happiness. It was that mellowness that he trusted. It was what he wanted to express.  
  
  
If he fell into some passionate, deeply physical, ‘set fire to the world’ kind of love with Kaneki, would it destroy him? It had the potential to ruin all three of them.  
  
  
If he couldn’t think rationally, if he couldn’t separate himself from Kaneki at times, who would mediate between Kaneki and Nagachika’s mutually self-destructive behavior?  
  
  
Amon began knuckling at his sternum. It wasn’t fair that Nagachika could fall head over heels while he had to restrain himself.  
  
  
Abruptly, he choked. Coughing harshly, Amon sat upwards, staring at his hands in shock.  
  
  
**_Had he actually just thought Nagachika was in love with Kaneki?_**  
  
  
Amon wasn’t terribly familiar with the concept of romance. As far as he’d been taught, romance required particular desires. But he’d also been taught he was an abomination, so Amon wasn’t terribly sure.  
  
  
His mind flickered back to Nagachika’s ever fluttering fingertips. It focused on the way they lingered on Kaneki’s skin. How Nagachika’s eyes sparkled when Kaneki looked at him and smiled.  
  
  
Amon shook his head, clearing the thoughts away. He couldn’t be sure how Nagachika felt. He wasn’t a mind-reader.

  
Deciding to leave it be, Amon pulled himself up from the floor. Anxiety hour was over for the time-being ( _though there were so many other topics: things he wasn’t strong enough to face alone…they’d wait for tomorrow_ ). What was the point in worrying about Nagachika anyway? He’d never been good at thinking.  
  
  
Besides, he was confident he’d find out with time.

  
~~~~~~

 

That afternoon, an introspective talk session was progressing well. At least, it had been introspective. Now Amon was twitching nervously in his seat while Nagachika and Kaneki were waiting for him to speak up.  
  
  
Kaneki’s tales of Yamori bothered him for more than just the obvious reasons. Kaneki had picked up habits from Yamori, who had picked up habits from his torturer.  
  
  
He’d only made the connection in his mind recently.  
  
  
The CCG had allowed Yamori’s torturer to exist. They’d let him do…all those things…and then they’d been passed down…  
  
  
It was sickening. Doubt and guilt were like a virus spreading through his body.  
  
  
In a way, Mado had been like that too. He’d contributed to the cycle of revenge. He’d…enjoyed…his work…  
  
  
Amon was confused ( _his feelings were a snarl of hard-won affection, respect, horror, and disillusionment_ ). He’d killed ghouls too. He’d taken pride in it ( _he’d dug up a grave…oh God_ ).  
  
  
He’d enjoyed ‘saving people’.  
  
  
His tongue was completely tied. What could he really say for himself? What right did he have to pass judgment ( _he flashed back to Mado’s grave, the day he’d spent there, the thoughts he hadn’t managed to sort out_ )?  
  
  
He’d tried to figure this out ( _giving a report to a dead man, being unable to finish, and trying to justify the love he still held in his heart_ ). Back then, he’d decided he needed to talk to Kaneki to work it out. Now that he was here though…what was he supposed to say?  
  
  
Apparently having had enough of his silence, Nagachika sighed gustily.  
  
  
“Koutarou,”  
  
  
He started ( _Amon used to be unnerved when Hide said his name. It wasn’t the case anymore_ ).  
  
  
“Whether or not your actions were right in the past doesn’t matter as long as you change your future.”  
  
  
Amon’s neck cracked under the speed at which he whipped his head around. Nagachika wore the shark smile he hadn’t seen in weeks ( _the one that terrified him most_ ). His actions had been completely read through ( _predicted by a deductive genius_ ).  
  
  
“It’s simple: you didn’t know, so you can’t be held responsible for your actions. You changed once you got a glimpse at the truth. You chased that truth. I’ll consider that your repentance or your innocence, it doesn’t matter which.”  
  
  
Nagachika rationalized in a chilly tone. With wide eyes, Amon swivelled to stare at Kaneki instead. He couldn’t believe Nagachika would just…let things go. It was terribly amoral ( _really, why did he expect anything more_ ). Nagachika’s reasoning was that of dictators or those who let genocide go with a shrug of their shoulders.  
  
  
Kaneki’s lips were pinched in a tight line. Clearly, he disagreed with Nagachika’s little speech. Amon was caught between feeling grateful and ill at the idea of Kaneki’s judgment.  
  
  
“I…I think regret is important. It will keep you from forgetting your purpose.”  
  
  
Kaneki smiled sardonically.  
  
  
“However, if you are always looking forward or back, you’ll miss what’s right in front of you. You’ve changed, Koutarou…it might not be enough for those you’ve hurt, but you have changed.”  
  
  
His words were like a stab in the heart. Amon shivered under the weight of Kaneki’s scrutiny and acceptance ( ** _he was_   _someone he’d hurt_** ).  
  
  
“Somebody once told me that in the past. It’s seems like I’m going to repeat a lot of lessons here.”  
  
  
Amon joked weakly. How was he supposed to take on the monumental task of steeping himself in regret while moving forwards?  
  
  
Nagachika’s shark smile didn’t fade in the slightest as Amon slumped. In fact, it grew even pointier ( _had Kaneki ever been on the receiving end of such a scary grin?_ ).  
  
  
“Well, since you’re too thick-headed to learn the first time, how about I set you up with some homework?”  
  
  
Though Nagachika’s words were mocking, the tone with which they were spoken was completely serious. It let Amon know he’d better pay attention.  
  
  
“Nagachika?”  
  
  
He tried to ask, however he was cut off by Nagachika lifting a single finger.  
  
  
“Here’s an assignment: write out the names of the ghouls you’ve killed. If you know them, write out the names of the people that fell to them. Then write out why they died for both.”  
  
  
There was a list already prepared in Amon’s mind. It haunted him whenever it had the chance anyway.  
  
  
“You should remember them, but try to remember them in paper instead of in your head.”  
  
  
Nagachika's voice was becoming distinctly smug. Sometimes, Amon had the feeling Nagachika could read him like an open book. He didn’t think he could keep any secrets from someone like that.  
  
  
“After they’ve been written down and you close the cover, those people cease to exist to you. You won’t dwell on your regret. It’s unhealthy.”  
  
  
He finished.  
  
  
Oddly, Nagachika’s little plan seemed to have drawn Kaneki into deep thought. Amon focused on his face to avoid planning out his notebook too far in advance. He didn’t want Nagachika to see the sheer numbers that were rolling through his mind.  
  
  
“Should I do the same? With the people I’ve hurt, I mean…”  
  
  
Kaneki murmured softly. His chin rested on one hand and his gaze was turned inwards.  
  
  
He looked horribly sad.  
  
  
“’Neki, you can fix those mistakes. You don’t need to dwell on them.”  
  
  
Though Nagachika had a point, Kaneki still looked troubled ( _was his list as large as Amon’s?_ ). Nagachika heaved a great sigh and pulled at his too-long bangs in exasperation.  
  
  
“We’ve got a couple of martyrs here, don’t we?”  
  
  
He groaned, pointing at them both with his free hand.  
  
  
“I’ve hurt you both. I can only try not to do it again. I can learn from my mistakes by staring them in the face and not taking them personally.”  
  
  
He was ranting, jabbing his finger at Amon and Kaneki alternately.  
  
  
“You both need to stop entrenching yourselves in the past.”  
  
  
At this, he pointedly stared at them both. Uncomfortable, they both nodded, however their eyes skidded away from Nagachika to each other. Amon could see guilt in Kaneki’s gaze and knew he could see the same in his.  
  
  
“Jesus…we’ll do some exercises on the concept of fault later, ok?”  
  
  
Nagachika grumbled belligerently. Since they didn’t have the right to refuse, the pair of them nodded again.  
  
  
Not for the first time, Amon wondered if all of this therapy was really good for him.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Strangely enough, Amon and Nagachika kept having private talk sessions. They never planned them, rather they fell together naturally.  
  
  
They discussed how painful it was to hurt Kaneki by dredging up his hurtful memories. They danced around the topic of how difficult it was to not become hypocrites.  
  
  
They had to maintain a certain degree of professional distance when it was needed. It was nearly impossible to be completely honest with Kaneki, too ( _not with emotional bonds this overwhelming_ ).  
  
  
Amon kept finding himself confiding in Nagachika, even though he never entrusted him with valuable information first. **_They were on an uneven playing field._**  
  
  
Amon hadn’t stopped distrusting Nagachika, not when he knew how much power the guy had. Still, Nagachika’s mistakes, his vulnerability, and his straightforward affection for his best friend were winning Amon over just a bit.  
  
  
Eventually these private talks wandered into more and more personal territory.  
  
  
Amon wasn’t sure if he could let go of what happened with Rabbit until he knew the whole story. He didn’t want Kaneki to pull any punches. He felt like he needed to know. Somehow, all of these thoughts were spilled over into his latest talk with Nagachika.  
  
  
“I’d like to focus on objective thinking and self-love first.”  
  
  
Nagachika had chided him. Amon knew that Kaneki couldn’t handle much more pushing right now, not without building a psychological toolbox, and felt ashamed. Surprisingly, Nagachika patted his shoulder comfortingly.  
  
  
“It’s ok that you want to know. In fact, I’m impressed that you are continuing to pursue the knowledge you need for self-improvement when most would avoid it.”  
  
  
Then, Nagachika laid into him ( _because since when did he comfort without stabbing Amon in the back a few times first?_ ).  
  
  
“Of course, you don’t really think too deeply before you act. When you do think, you tend to overthink. Like a dog with a bone, you can’t let certain things go, especially when they relate to Kaneki. It has helped you change drastically up to this point, but it’s also stressing you out. It's pretty ridiculous in my opinion. I understand why Akira was so frustrated with you.”  
  
  
Amon let a breath escape him and nodded sagely. Really, Nagachika’s analysis was pretty accurate. Though he’d been taught to move on instinct, it would benefit him to learn to think critically about when to stop.  
  
  
**_He wasn’t only taking care of himself anymore._**  
  
  
After integrating this into his worldview stubbornly ( _beating it into the place where 'ghouls are evil' has once been_ ), Amon glanced up into Nagachika’s surprised face. A proud smile flitted across it and Amon found himself awkwardly returning it.  
  
  
Nagachika was a sketchy guy, however he wasn’t all bad.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Sweaty and out of breath, Hide tasted salt when he grinned. Their first intense mutual workout was going brilliantly. Both Koutarou and Kaneki seemed more satisfied than they’d been in ages.  
  
  
It made him feel a little scrawny to be surrounded by two men in the peak of their physical condition, but whatever. He could appreciate the sight and the good mood everyone was in.  
  
  
He’d even managed to catch the way Kaneki and Koutarou were admiring each other’s strength. They’d slyly suggested adding a weight here, increasing the pace of their jogging there, and had raked their gaze over each other’s muscles ( _competitive and interested_ ).  
  
  
Koutarou had Kaneki beat in raw build, however Kaneki had the strength of a ghoul on his side. He was also faster, lighter, and more agile ( _or he should be…some of Kaneki’s movements seemed oddly_ _lethargic_ ). As Kaneki tumbled around the room, Hide grinned even harder. His friend could be a ballerina if he wanted to.  
  
  
Koutarou accompanied him in several ridiculous maneuvers ( _backflips, how could they even.._.). That’s when Hide noticed: Koutarou was favouring his right side. He couldn’t stretch his torso very far on the left.  
  
  
**_That fucker._** How long had his ribs been damaged?  
  
  
Laughing to himself, Hide spitefully collapsed in ‘exhaustion’. He breathed hard on the ground and waited for the others to stop moving. When the dust had settled and all he could hear was the heaving of their lungs, Hide spoke up.  
  
  
“If you’re going to carry me and ‘Neki around, which you will have to do because I'm dead on my feet, you have to take care of yourself first.”  
  
  
Koutarou flushed scarlet and Kaneki actually **_roared_** with laughter.  
  
  
“I told him the same thing!”  
  
  
He exclaimed, wiping sweat from his brow.  
  
  
Hide grinned at him and he returned it with a smile of his own. At moments like these, Hide felt most strongly that they were old friends.  
  
  
Shiftily, Hide sought out Koutarou’s expression. He had been expecting any number of things: embarrassment, jealously, guilt. What he got however, was a blindingly paternal upward tilt of the lips and half-lidded eyes.  
  
  
Koutarou looked stupidly proud of them.  
  
  
Ugh, what was he going to do with such an earnest guy?

  
~~~~~~

  
  
Kaneki was dreaming again. The whole world was navy blue. It was cool to the touch and surrounded him like a gel.  
  
  
His stomach was empty.  
  
  
He had been empty. He’d been empty for so long…  
  
  
Carved into the gel and visible only by the reflection of light from his skin, were words. He read them silently ( _as if drinking them in_ ).  
  
  
“ _But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drink, the very air I breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles.”  
  
  
_ He turned his head to the left, following the words as the spiralled around his body.  
  
  
_“The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o'clock in the morning.”  
  
  
_ Against his will, his mouth opened wide. The gel rushed into it, flowed down his throat into his stomach and lungs. It soothed a stinging sensation he hadn’t been aware of and drowned him.  
  
  
...  
  
  
Kaneki awoke with tears in his eyes. Unable to move, he lay in bed for a time crying with tiny shaking sobs.  
  
  
When he was done, no residual sadness clung to him. Though his dream could have been a nightmare, somehow he felt good. Almost...nostalgic...or like he'd found something after searching for a long time.  
  
  
Somehow he felt better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote in Kaneki's dream is from Haruki Murakami's Windup Bird Chronicle.
> 
> I wound up posting a little early as a thank you for 20, 000 views! Wow! I can't believe that this story has gotten so far. When I first started writing it, it was for the kinkmeme and was my first attempt at writing fiction. Now I've reached a wordcount of nearly 100, 000 and this many of you have taken a glance at it. 
> 
> Thank you all so much.
> 
> As always, if you have any suggestions, comments, desire an explanation, have predictions, or have things you just really loved/hated, shoot me a comment in the comments section or send me a message at purgatoryandme.tumblr.com. Hearing from you guys makes my day and helps me make this story a better read!
> 
> ((You can ask about the symbolism of the dreamscapes if you want. I know they might be confusing hahaha...)


	27. Seeds (Part 5/6)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once germination starts, it doesn't stop. Whether we like it or not, we all grow.
> 
> We all change.
> 
> ((Prepare yourselves for the idea that soulmates aren't an entirely healthy concept and the separation of sexual desire and romance. Also pierced!Kaneki is resurrected!))

How long had they all been there? To Kaneki, it felt like a lifetime.  
  
  
The days had begun to blur together. He took all his meals with Koutarou and Hide ( _shaving his meat just a little thinner, filling his coffee just a little less, because that way the supplies would last longer_ ). They talked more often than not, however there were lonely days ( _exercises in self-restraint, introspection, days spent on homework or diaries that catalogued thought traps and other such things_ ). They even exercised together.  
  
  
The exercise had done him well. It was killing the vulnerabilities he’d felt building up since he’d come here. It made him tired enough that he didn’t dream ( _often_ ) either.  
  
  
They’d powered through several more dark topics. Discussing what the Anteiku raid had meant to all of them ( _Yoshimura’s loneliness and Kaneki’s soul-deep understanding of it, Koutarou and Hide’s last effort to find him, and the burning of Kaneki’s last sanctuary_ ) had driven them all, startlingly, to tears.  
  
  
Hide had broken the rules and grabbed his hand at the time. Koutarou had tried to maintain a brittle smile, but his dark lashes were damp.  
  
  
Kaneki hated himself for being unable to touch him at the time. **_He hated himself so much.  
_**  
  
Their talk sessions had grown light-hearted since then. Their de facto leader had obviously decided change was in order. Self-love was a big topic ( _Kaneki struggled with it more than he’d ever reveal_ ). Hide had tried to turn it into something fun.  
  
  
They played around with word games in which you had to make exclusively positive connections. Hide would write down sentences and pass them on, turning them into a story. It had been an exercise on dissonance, things escaping your control and turning out unexpectedly, and had been surprisingly effective on him.  
  
  
Alone, the idea of building yourself up still hung around. Hide had suggested therapy arts and crafts. Really, he’d specified painting, staring at the blank white walls.  
  
  
Kaneki smirked at the memory. Koutarou had scoffed at the idea ( _he’d probably never done a creative thing in his life, big old stick in the mud_ ). Since they’d starting working out together, Kaneki found he could be more competitive with him ( _it excited him when Koutarou praised or challenged_ _him_ ). It let him lash out creatively.  
  
  
Koutarou now hung around him during every therapy painting session. The walls in Kaneki’s room were covered in gray and blue storm clouds. The talk room had a mural of rolling heather fields and mountains. One of the kitchen walls was a half-completed replica of Hide’s childhood home ( _Kaneki had painted golden sunlight all over the tile. It streamed freely from a sketched out window over two sets of tiny drawn school shoes. No one had stopped him from painting on the floors_ ).  
  
  
He’d even taught Koutarou to paint a little. Hide was a hopeless case, talentless as they come. Koutarou wasn’t much better, but his enthusiasm made up for it.  
  
  
With a task in mind it was also easier to touch him ( _to set his hand over Koutarou’s on the brush, to turn his shoulders, or lean against him_ ). The fluttering anxiety in Kaneki’s stomach was something he despised. Koutarou deserved better.  
  
  
Maybe he was being a show-off, but he’d also taken up sketching with his left hand. Long ago, he’d been ambidextrous. He hadn’t used both hands in ages.  
  
  
The sketch work helped him retune his fine motor skills. They had been impacted most greatly by his head wounds ( _he’d convinced himself there were no after effects, however it was brain trauma so there had to be_ ). It made him feel like he was getting stronger even when he wasn’t allowed to push his body to the limit.  
  
  
The good times couldn’t completely overshadow the bad, though. They’d discovered some topics…just weren’t something to be shared.  
  
  
Kaneki never wanted to talk about Jason’s playroom ever again. **_He also did not want to talk about Arima_**. That battle had been so psychologically disturbing that he refused to think about it ( _he’d never tell them what he’d seen_ ).  
  
  
Hide always dodged conversation about the first time he and Koutarou had tried to retrieve Kaneki. The dark cast that overtook his face told Kaneki all he needed to know. Oddly, he also didn’t like talking about Tsukiyama.  
  
  
Koutarou got restless when they discussed his subordinates. He wouldn’t tell them to stop talking about them, however Kaneki didn’t want to discuss it further. Those people were to Koutarou what Anteiku was to him.  
  
  
He also didn’t like talking about Donato. Kaneki wasn’t sure if he was still thinking about him or if his talk had done any good. Since Koutarou still wore his cross, he supposed it hadn’t ( _though...he played with it less frequently…like it weighed on his mind less_ ).  
  
  
No one talked about the elephant in the room. Hide’s casual “I love you” comments and Koutarou’s extremely **_caring_** actions towards Kaneki were ignored completely. It triggered a powerful, gripping panic in Kaneki **_(“kill everyone who desires you”_** ) that he wanted to crush into dust and ashes.  
  
  
He wasn’t worthy of love ( _no matter how many exercises he did or how often he thought of Yoshimura’s words of acceptance, he couldn’t forget_ ). Whenever he thought of it, it just felt like a...  
  
  
_(trick, a lie, everyone who ever touched you was just using you_ )  
  
  
Dream. An effervescent dream. **_Something that wouldn’t last.  
  
_**  
If he was being completely honest, it made him want to engrave reality into his skin. He wanted to pierce again. It was a hard impulse to explain without it sounding like self-harm however.  
  
  
It had taken time before he could admit to it. When he had, Koutarou had panicked. He’d burst out,  
  
  
“Please, hurting yourself is bad! You can…uhm, well, I suppose you can’t actually accidentally kill yourself. Or scar yourself for life. Uh…”  
  
  
It had been cute in the strangest way to see Koutarou try to reconcile his worry with the fact that Kaneki could heal two holes in his head.  
  
  
Hide had the good sense to probe him for an explanation. He hadn’t actually wanted to give one. Piercing had become a personal ritual that he shared with ghouls and ghouls alone…telling Hide about it felt wrong.  
  
  
For the first time in awhile, anger had flared in him ( _rules, rules, why obey the rules!?_ ). Apparently, his frustration had been answer enough, because Hide had gotten up and started collecting scrap metal bits.  
  
  
After forcing Koutarou to use his brute strength to bend them, Hide presented Kaneki with clip on earrings.  
  
  
It was hilarious. It missed the point completely.  
  
  
It was so stupid that he loved them, these heavy weights that denied him pain.  
  
  
Once he had them attached, Koutarou frowned and asked for permission to touch him. Kaneki steeled himself and nodded.  
  
  
Koutarou’s long narrow palms obscured his vision while he reached over Kaneki’s face to touch his ears. The lobes were pinched between his fingertips as he massaged them with unprecedented carefulness. Then, just as gently, he’d loosened the metal a little.  
  
  
“Your ears went a little white…”  
  
  
Koutarou mumbled, looking contrite though Kaneki had given him permission. He withdrew his hands slowly, averting his eyes, and had quickly returned to his seat.  
  
  
Something about the exchange felt like swallowing glass to Kaneki. He was left breathless and conflicted.  
  
  
“The parts of yourself that you want to hurt…treat them gently. Massage them, exercise them, but don’t harm them. Even if it won’t damage your body…it will damage your mind.”  
  
  
Koutarou whispered, quirking his lips upwards as his lids fell shut.  
  
  
Kaneki had noticed before that Koutarou was capable of shutting his emotions behind an iron wall. However, it hadn’t really occurred to him that he was hot-headed by nature ( _he kept doing things before he thought about it_ ).  
  
  
It meant Koutarou was trying very hard to restrain himself.  
  
  
Though it was touching, Kaneki also felt ill ( ** _he didn’t deserve to be loved_** ). His heart felt like it was trying to squirm its way out of his chest and into the pit in his stomach.  
  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
  
He whispered back, suddenly and embarrassingly overwhelmed by the urge to cry.  
  
  
Hide and Koutarou both looked at him with identically alarmed expressions ( _he didn’t deserve to be loved, he couldn’t stand to be touched when it **meant something** , and he was ruining their lives_).  
  
  
“Really, thank you.”

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Kaneki hadn’t participated in many private talk sessions yet and he hadn’t had one with Hide at all, so he felt it was long overdue. It still made Hide nervous though. There was a lot he had to say but Kaneki had been…odd as of late.  
  
  
He was bothered by the funny twist Kaneki’s mouth and hands took on whenever Hide said he loved him. The near-tears expression he took on when Koutarou was sweet to him was also haunting. It bore the suggestion of yet another fear Kaneki was refusing to discuss with them.  
  
  
Hide was actually worried it was a fear Kaneki **_couldn’t_** discuss with them by virtue of the fact that they loved him.  
  
  
Their time in the apartment was wearing painfully thin, so Hide couldn’t really afford to wait forever. He’d like to have infinite patience, however he could only keep Kaneki concealed for so long. He could only keep sneaking out to collect supplies and living off of that purple-haired bastard’s finances for the time being ( _his own had run out three days ago_ ).  
  
  
He may have removed any form of calendar from the apartment, but everyone would eventually become aware of the passing days.  
  
  
And so, a private talk session. He was just going to wade into the depths and hope for a vaguely positive outcome. Out of them both, he knew Kaneki the best and had the highest chance of success.  
  
  
Unless it was a complete and total mental breakdown situation, of course. Then he’d probably have to get Koutarou ( _it made him twitch whenever he thought of the way Kaneki’s gaze darted over to Koutarou’s arms like he wanted to be carried and cradled or like Koutarou was the safest space in the room_ ).  
  
  
Hide slapped his cheeks and resumed pacing while waiting for Kaneki to come to his room. He’d done his best to make it a comforting space full of plush textures, life, heat, and the hazy lush scent of summer. Maybe the atmosphere would influence his friend ( _maybe it would calm Hide down too_ ).  
  
  
The creaking of the door opening nearly gave Hide a heart attack. He jumped, letting out a very tiny shriek ( _smooth, Hide, smooth_ ).  
  
  
“Hide! What happened!? Are you alright!?”  
  
  
Kaneki shouted, rushing through the doorway and into Hide’s personal space. Nervously, Hide laughed, trying to crush an impulse to lie _(“Oh no, I’m hurt. Please take care of my injuries._ ”).  
  
  
“Yeah, sorry, I just zoned out and didn’t hear you knock.”  
  
  
He was assuming Kaneki knocked. If he didn’t, Hide had practically waved his anxiety in his face.  
  
  
Luckily, Kaneki gave him a shaky smile and padded over to his bed. He patted the covers a few times ( _a gesture for Hide to sit. Right, sitting was the thing he was supposed to do here_ ).  
  
  
Hide perched at the edge of the bed and admired Kaneki’s stupid argyle socks. They didn’t go with his new black-and-white aesthetic at all. If Kaneki were a 'socks with sandals' kind of guy, he’d probably be made fun of because of them.  
  
  
Then again, if Kaneki wore socks and sandals, Hide was pretty sure he’d be mocked anyway.  
  
  
“Hide?”  
  
  
**_Fuck._** He was doing the thing ( _his nervous thing when he zeroed in on tiny details_ ).  
  
  
“Aha…ha…sorry, got distracted. So…”  
  
  
Hide scratched underneath his nose ( _a nervous tick. He was a moron_ ).  
  
  
“It’s us time! Our time to talk! It’s been so long!”  
  
  
He patted Kaneki’s socked foot in a series of jerky gestures. Kaneki looked at him a little oddly, though he didn’t move away ( _whoops, he should’ve asked first, oh man…_ ).  
  
  
“You only need to ask me in the mornings, you know. You don’t…make me nervous.”  
  
  
Kaneki tried to calm him down. He must be a mind-reader! Except previous experience proved that to be false. So Hide was just really really obvious right now.  
  
  
“I know that! Haha! I’m just…”  
  
  
Hide replied, waveing his hands in the air.  
  
  
“Nervous.”  
  
  
Kaneki finished for him, his shaky smile growing crooked.  
  
  
“We’ve had a lot of difficult conversations in the past, Hide. You don’t need to get so worked up.”  
  
  
Kaneki nudged Hide’s butt with his foot. It was stupidly adorable. **_This was so stupid._**  
  
  
He’d been way too worried about upsetting Kaneki lately. It was stressful for him to change his approach to his friend, bringing up the things that bothered him, not dancing around every topic, but he’d gone overboard here.  
  
  
Kaneki could handle this now. **_Probably._ ** He could handle the first part at least.  
  
  
Planning things was so much harder when Hide’s **_feelings_** were involved.  
  
  
“I was planning to talk about when you left.”  
  
  
Hide said, lowering his fluttering hands to play with Kaneki’s socks. He’d prefer to be bending his fingers, however Hide had gone and sat too far away ( _Kaneki wasn’t glass. He didn’t need to be so carefu_ l).  
  
  
“I’d like to talk about that too.”  
  
  
Kaneki agreed ( _see? Easy peasy_ ).  
  
  
“We touched on it before…you texted me. All the time. I never asked you why.”  
  
  
Kaneki said, staring at him intensely. It looked like he was searching for signs of something in his face. ** _It made Hide so uncomfortable._**  
  
  
“I missed you. I…ok, this is really pathetic, but don’t laugh. I couldn’t get used to the idea of not talking to you, so I just talked at you. It uh…made me feel better. Like you’d remember me or something…”  
  
  
Hide mumbled. He had known Kaneki wouldn’t read them unless something awful happened ( _which was why he’d fessed up so many important secrets_ ). He had also known they wouldn’t make Kaneki come back. The whole thing had been a ridiculous exercise in self-comfort.  
  
  
“Your texts made me feel terrible,”  
  
  
**_What._**  
  
  
“However, I think I would’ve been worse off without them. They reminded me that I was making you sad, but they also told me you were safe.”  
  
  
Kaneki said, looking incredibly uncomfortable.  
  
  
Oh. That was…good, Hide supposed?  
  
  
He swept his gaze over Kaneki, getting a read on his body language. Though he knew what Kaneki was thinking ( _his safety came before Kaneki’s happiness_ ), it was so much easier to understand when they were…touching.  
  
  
Neither of them spoke for a second. Instead, they stared at each other without breathing.  
  
  
Kaneki awkwardly shuffled a bit to the left on the bed. Hide knew an invitation when he saw one and he took it. He scrambled off the edge of the bed and into the space on Kaneki’s right, pressed up against his side.  
  
  
They sighed simultaneously and Hide’s thoughts felt far less disorganized.  
  
  
“When you were gone, I had a lot of really dark thoughts.”  
  
  
He said flatly, worming his hand into Kaneki’s so he could play with his fingers.  
  
  
“I thought that everybody around me was worthless. I wasn’t interested in them at all. School was worthless, work was worthless, friends were worthless.”  
  
  
His friend’s fingers began flexing just enough to provide resistance to his bending. A challenge presented, Hide began to push into the squishy finger-pads harder.  
  
  
“I ** _was worthless_**. I keep forgetting how easy it is for me to get lonely. When I’m lonely, everything is boring.”  
  
  
When he pushed forward, Kaneki pushed back. The rocking motion was soothing.  
  
  
“I wanted the school to burn to the ground, but then I remembered that I could just leave. So I joined the CCG and left.”  
  
  
Hide blurted. He started humming to himself between statements, his hands picking up the rhythm of the tune he wanted. He continued his story after setting the music firmly in his mind.  
  
  
“When I was in the CCG, I found out about Investigator Mado’s death. I thought to myself ‘good’ because he was somebody that would have hurt you. Even after I became friends with his daughter, I didn’t stop thinking that.”  
  
  
The song was one Seidou was always whistling when he worked in the office alone. The sound of it reminded him strongly of the CCG.  
  
  
“Then, when we tried to find you…every single time I picked up your trail I blocked everything else out. It was all white noise. I was still lonely, however meeting Koutarou made it a bit better.”  
  
  
Koutarou was his first and only ally. Maybe, in another life, Akira could have been won over ( _maybe it wasn’t too late for her now_ ).  
  
  
“He ditched me for awhile, you know? During that time…I was really angry. **_I was just always angry_**. I thought the whole CCG should just burn since they were too incompetent to find you. I held a bit of a grudge about how slow they were about the Aogiri raid.”  
  
  
If they’d been a few days earlier, they could have spared Kaneki **_the choice_** ( _the worst part of his torture_ ).  
  
  
“Then we found you. You slipped through my fingers and I swear **_I hated the entire world_**. I wrecked my plans, my apartment, myself, and nearly got evicted.”  
  
  
He gritted his teeth and let go of Kaneki’s hands to roll up his sleeve.  
  
  
“Your purple-haired friend held me up. **_He made me fucking late_**. He even **_bit me_** and called it a **_brand_** since I was essentially cattle to him.”  
  
  
Hide growled furiously. The scar Tsukiyama had created and Hide had reopened was stretched out and bulging. It had been one of the things Hide had cut into when he fed Kaneki. The teethmarks were still visible, however they had twisted in an inhuman fashion.  
  
  
“I sunk my teeth into the mark he left behind. It was so messed up, but I wanted it to be mine. Then I decided ‘fuck the world’ and went after you again.”  
  
  
Surprisingly, Kaneki made a sympathetic face over the bite wound. Hide wondered if it was connected to Kaneki’s fondness for piercing ( _the little silver rings on his ears caught the light whenever he moved. It was charming, though dissonant when compared to the Kaneki he’d once known_ ).  
  
  
“When I saw that bastard a second time, I practically threw him under the bus. I get that you’re allies, but he was in rough shape and I just made it rougher. Honestly, I got a lot of vindictive pleasure out of it.”  
  
  
He admitted, shrugging his shoulders, rolling down his sleeve, and taking up Kaneki’s hand again ( _it was a relief to share the worst things about himself without Kaneki shrinking away_ ).  
  
  
“I can’t really say anything about your interactions with Tsukiyama. He didn’t deserve it, however…well he really shouldn’t have…done those things to you. He’s actually an alright guy...”  
  
  
Kaneki made a conflicted face and scrunched up his nose as he spoke. Since he’d told Hide the story of their first meeting, Hide could imagine what Kaneki was thinking about.  
  
  
“Sometimes.”  
  
  
He finished, dismissing the topic. Kaneki flipped Hide’s hand over and continued their game.  
  
  
“For a long time I thought about undoing everything. I dreamed about abandoning all the friends I’d made, forgetting everything I’d learned, and travelling back in time to walk with you again. I told you about this, a little bit, but I wanted to spend time with you again more than I wanted to go back to being human.”  
  
  
Sighing, Kaneki used his free hand to play with his earrings as he went on.  
  
  
“I read your messages because I felt like I was losing you. It was the same thing as losing myself. I didn’t remember the meaning of our blue tape until I read about it.”  
  
  
He was pulling on the rings exceptionally hard ( _Hide remember the way Koutarou had rubbed them and wondered if he should do the same_ ).  
  
  
“They made me see how blind I was. I was so blind to your feelings. It never managed to make it into my thick skull that you wouldn’t take my death well.”  
  
  
Kaneki released the rings are took a deep steadying breath.  
  
  
“You talked to me about dark thoughts. For awhile…I’d been planning to die once I got revenge. I was going to go and solve everyone’s problems and then just…die. I didn’t feel like I had anywhere to go back to.”  
  
  
A waver entered his voice. Hide’s heart stopped in his chest and he gripped Kaneki’s hand tightly.  
  
  
“I wasn’t even aware of it until I read your threat about ‘going down’ with me.”  
  
  
Kaneki choked and gripped Hide’s hand back.  
  
  
“Even though the others would’ve been sad if I died too…it was you that made me…God. I’m such a mess. Half the things I did just kept on leading back to you.”  
  
  
He was crying, furiously swiping some of his tears into his shock white hair.  
  
  
“What the fuck is wrong with me? I love you more than anything else!”  
  
  
Kaneki cried out. Hide’s heart stopped, restarted, and stopped again. It was acting almost as hopefully confused as Hide was.  
  
  
“How…how do you mean that?”  
  
  
There was a quiver in Hide’s voice that he wasn’t even trying to hide anymore.  
  
  
“ ** _I don’t even know!_** ”  
  
  
Kaneki yelled, running his hands through his hair in frustration. Wildly, he pointed at Hide.  
  
  
“You are the person I wouldn’t let **_anything_** or **_anyone_** touch. You represented everything that made me happy. I’d die if you did. I wouldn’t even think about it. I know this isn’t healthy but I’m too fucked up for it to even matter. God, I don’t know, it’s like you’re a **_part of me_** or something!”  
  
  
Throughout his yelling, Kaneki hadn’t let go of Hide’s hand. In response to his confession, Hide returned the force of his crushing grip.  
  
  
“Then I’m fucked up, too. **_I feel exactly the same_**. It’s like…no matter what I’d like you. Not because I need to, but because I want to. I could throw everything away and choose you. I could lose everything for you."  
  
  
Hide pressed, shivering in anticipation. He wanted an answer to his question.  
  
  
"Is this what it’s like to be in love?”  
  
  
He asked.  
  
  
Honestly, Hide was pretty sure these feelings weren’t the ones his parents felt for each other. Romance movies made love sound a lot like this, however Hide had always been under the impression that regular people didn’t act like that. Was their love…better than his?  
  
  
Kaneki had called it unhealthy. Hide couldn’t really deny that ( _being willing to go that far for someone...being unable to separate yourself from them_ ).  
  
  
“No! Yes?"  
  
  
His friend growled and pinched his nose with his free hand.  
  
  
"I…I don’t feel the same way about you that I did about my high school crushes. I don’t want to sleep with you. I mean, I think that I could, but…I don’t have the desire to.”  
  
  
Well, at least Kaneki’s confusion made Hide feel less like an idiot.  
  
  
“I just want to be with you. I mean, ugh. You aren’t like family or a friend or whatever. It’s…”  
  
  
“More?”  
  
  
Hide helpfully supplied, unable to look away from Kaneki’s watery eyes and blotchy pale skin. The grey always looked blue when Kaneki cried. Blue or silver, depending on the light.  
  
  
“There’s no example of what you are to me! Nothing! Not one thing in any of the literature I’ve read. The best thing I can think of is a soul mate.”  
  
  
**_Soul mate.  
_**  
  
They were soul-bound, weren’t they?  
  
  
Hide pounced on the idea with delight.  
  
  
“That’s it! That’s exactly it! Who cares if its romantic or whatever? I mean, I don’t really want to get with you either…not like that. Unless you wanted to, though you don’t.”  
  
  
He rambled, then beamed at Kaneki, scooping up his other hand in his.  
  
  
“You’re my soul mate!”  
  
  
Tears clung to Kaneki’s eyelashes, however he seemed settled. The wild fear in his gaze had faded away. Like he had stopped resisting something, Kaneki’s body practically melted into his.  
  
  
Hide felt more complete than before. It was as if he had gotten older or wiser.  
  
  
**_Maybe he was just happier._**  
  
  
His eyes shut and he turned his head, breathing in the scent of Kaneki’s hair ( _lavender, chamomile, coffee, and the same old sweetness that never changed_ ).  
  
  
“I love you.”  
  
  
He murmured, his lips moving through white strands.  
  
  
“I’ve never loved anyone but you.”  
  
  
Kaneki shifted himself so he was leaning into Hide’s chest and their legs entangled. It was amazing ( _Hide wanted every single piece of them to connect, to blend, until there was no separation_ ). He wanted to cry like a huge baby and...  
  
  
Oh no…  
  
  
His tears fell onto the top of Kaneki’s head. Hide started to laugh and Kaneki squirmed in his arms. Ignoring his struggles, Hide nuzzled against him more.  
  
  
“I’m so…I’m so stupidly happy. Ahaha, man, I don’t even know what to say. I love you, ‘Neki.”  
  
  
Kaneki’s struggles ceased and Hide heard him huff.  
  
  
“Me too.”  
  
  
He breathed.  
  
  
It was a good thing Kaneki was content, because Hide had no intention of moving for at least a few hours. He had Kaneki-tanks to fill up.

  
~~~~~~

  
One of the couches in the apartment was quickly becoming Kaneki’s favourite. The creamy leather was old and had just enough give for him to sink into it. It was also positioned so that nobody could sneak up on him.  
  
  
Of course, that required him to be paying attention. Some good novels ( _marked with blue tape_ ) had finally shown up in the bookshelf and he had buried himself in them ( _to give his mind a break_ ). Coupled with how comfy the couch was and how perfect the temperature in the apartment was, Kaneki was completely out of it.  
  
  
Fingers were combing through his hair, petting him like a cat. The thumbs pushed into his temples in a massaging motion that he adored. It was warm and he leaned into the hand in a demand more ( _he craved it...he'd be hungry for so long..._ ).  
  
  
The hand stopped moving and he heard a sharp breath beside him. Though he had assumed it was Hide ( ** _because he felt safe_** ), Kaneki was now eye to eye with Koutarou.  
  
  
He stilled and searched Koutarou’s face. Anxiety lurked just around the corner, but there was no expectation hidden in any of Koutarou’s motions. In fact, it looked like he’d touched him subconsciously ( _there was an open book in his lap too_ ).  
  
  
They both drew in a shuddering breath. Koutarou’s hand hadn’t moved in the slightest. He was waiting for a signal ( _Kaneki had power here_ ).  
  
  
Swallowing thickly, Kaneki titled his head further into Koutarou’s palm ( _he trusted this man. Not even his own mind could convince him otherwise. He just had to try_ ).  
  
  
For a second, Koutarou’s eyes went misty and his face crumpled in soft affection. A lopsided whisper of a smile appeared on it as he let his fingers trail down the smooth expanse of Kaneki’s hair and over the shell of his ear ( _Kaneki shivered, a flicker of nervousness struggling against the heat that perfused him_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki felt very weak in that moment. Weak, small, and overly full ( _he didn’t deserve this, he knew better, but Koutarou looked angelic and he…he didn’t know how he felt_ ).  
  
  
If Hide were a steady flow of love from a tap into an ocean ( _a drop at a time, never too much_ ), what was Koutarou?  
  
  
**_He was always wondering._ **  
  
  
He was never sure where he stood with this man who brought out the best and worst in him. He trusted him, however he held back from him.  
  
  
**_It was never simple_**.  
  
  
Koutarou’s hot hands cupped his face and brushed his hair away from his eyes. Then, they returned to petting his head and Koutarou’s gaze went back to his book ( _that almost-smile clinging to his lips_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki didn’t understand Koutarou. They were the same ( _they’d bonded, they’d shared things_ ). They were different ( _he was human, he was good, and Kaneki couldn’t face that_ ).  
  
  
**_He could only say he was happy to have met him._**

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
“Tell me everything about the night Rabbit killed Mado.”  
  
  
Koutarou asked, kicking off a talk session. He was straight-backed and looked like he was supporting the weight of the world on his shoulders ( _Atlas in the flesh_ ).  
  
  
He also kept shiftily glancing at Hide. Kaneki centered Hide in his field of vision as well, curious about what was going on ( _stalling for time_ ).  
  
  
“You two can talk about this, but promise me something, Koutarou. You can’t take revenge if you find out who Rabbit is.”  
  
  
Hide ordered, his lips pinched into a bloodless line and wrinkles in his brow ( _Kaneki had told them both about Touka, though he had never explicitly stated that she was Rabbit. There was more than one investigator-killer amongst the people he knew_ ).  
  
  
The armchair creaked when Koutarou startled. He looked genuinely shocked at the suggestion.  
  
  
“It was never my intention.”  
  
  
He stated. Earnestly, he twisted his body to face Kaneki with an open stance ( _hiding nothing_ ).  
  
  
“I wouldn’t make you give me information and then use it to kill your friend. I trust your judgment and want to know what really happened.”  
  
  
It was stunning to see how much he had grown. Kaneki had struggled against the cycle of revenge and fallen into it, however Koutarou was overcoming it step by step.  
  
  
Perhaps it was because he was straightforward and resolute, putting faith into himself and worthy people without wavering. When he did waver, **_when he was wrong_** , Koutarou forcibly changed his worldview ( _instead of clinging to the past…his past clung to him. Donato might be the only exception to his adaption_ ).  
  
  
It reminded Kaneki of what Koutarou had said to him in the Aogiri hideout.  
  
  
_'This isn’t all there is. This is all you can do for now. Get stronger and choose another path.'  
_  
  
Koutarou was walking away from the path he’d been on before. Kaneki wished he could follow him ( _his words had given him so much strength, but_ _every step forward he took was accompanied by a half-step back_ ).  
  
  
He couldn’t stop gawking at Koutarou and the man was busy misinterpreting it.  
  
  
“I’ve had time to mourn. Mado was a good man to men, but not to ghouls.”  
  
  
He’d taken the staring as disbelief.  
  
  
“I…don’t really know how to feel about him anymore. He was a mentor to me, however I can’t complete his mission for him. My path and his no longer intersect.”  
  
  
Koutarou explained, resolution showing in the firm lines of his face and body.  
  
  
“I’m asking you this selfishly, out of respect for his memory and to break free from my own doubts.”  
  
  
He finished, looking profoundly uncomfortable. Almost as a knee-jerk reaction, Kaneki wondered what would’ve happened to Koutarou if he took Kaneki’s place. Would he still have managed to make his way onto the right path? Would any torture break him? Was he better than-  
  
  
Then he remembered Koutarou’s expression when he spoke of Koharu and Harima. He recalled the burdens they’d placed upon his shoulders.  
  
  
**_People may not be as strong as they appeared to him_**. Kaneki had to keep that in mind. Koutarou’s emotional strength was admirable, not infallible.  
  
  
Out of mutual respect, he spared no details from his story. He felt guilty about it and he could tell his stress was what made Hide’s mouth curl in distaste. He wanted Koutarou to understand however, and so he kept going.  
  
  
“I see…that was truly awful.”  
  
  
Koutarou finally said, drooping miserably. His knuckles brushed against his breastbone and Kaneki was suddenly reminded of their talks about Donato ( _and the grudge that laid within_ ).  
  
  
Hurriedly, he searched out Hide’s position. He seemed to have picked up on the same thing.  
  
  
They exchanged a single look. It said ‘he’s sinking’.  
  
  
Critically, Hide announced,  
  
  
“I’ve heard a lot about Mado. He raised Akira well.”  
  
  
Drawing Koutarou’s attention.  
  
  
“He knew how to parent, how to guide, and how to inspire people. He just didn’t understand that ghouls were people too.”  
  
  
He was horribly thankful to Hide for being able to present facts flatly and logically. Kaneki picked up where he left off.  
  
  
“Revenge taints good intentions. I believe that to survive something monstrous, many people are forced to take on monstrous traits.”  
  
  
( _Yamori was a victim in a way. So was every street ghoul he’d met_ )  
  
  
“Mado was terrifying, but Touka regrets the way he died.”  
  
  
( _She’d taken responsibility for her murders. Kaneki had left Yamori to die alone_ )  
  
  
“Even the people he hurt could see he was still just another person.”  
  
  
( _But…_ )  
  
  
“Uhm…it’s like this, I think. Your disgust is valid, because what he did was wrong,”  
  
  
( _Bad beans needed to be plucked lest they ruin the pot_ )  
  
  
“However it doesn’t erase all the good things he did for you. Like you said, you don’t need to kill the times you were happy because your sadness is noble.”  
  
  
( _He wouldn’t blame any members of Aogiri Tree for hunting him down over Yamori. He wouldn’t hand them his life, but they were well within their rights to love the man_ )  
  
  
There was a melancholy ‘if only’ rolling through the room. If only no monstrous situations occurred. If only a good man could stay a good man.  
  
  
Kaneki knew that sadness was in his eyes. When he looked at Koutarou, it was reflected in his too.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
They worked out together constantly. Hide, Kaneki, and Koutarou made for a good team. There was a perfect balance of competition and restraint that kept them from hurting themselves.  
  
  
Frequently, shirtless and exhausted, Kaneki would catch his gaze trailing over Koutarou’s back and shoulders. The man was a solid brick of rippling muscle, good looks, and easy-going honesty. How had he never figured out anyone was head over heels for him?  
  
  
Just as frequently, Kaneki would catch Koutarou staring back at him. Those times made him turn his head quickly and return to whatever task he was carrying out. His awareness of Koutarou’s eyes burning a hole in the back of his head only drove him to work harder ( _anxiety tightening his muscles and making each movement painful_ ).  
  
  
It was only in the midst of competition ( _lifting weights, strategic maneuvers, handstands_ ) that he could see the passion Koutarou had been keeping locked up. It was what he’d looked for in Hide’s face when he’d confessed.  
  
  
It was obvious that Koutarou desired him physically.  
  
  
There was heat in his motions, how he drifted closer, how his lips parted and his pupils dilated before he’d draw back into himself.  
  
  
After agonizing over it for several nights and analyzing Koutarou’s expression every second he had the chance, Kaneki began drawing conclusions. Firstly, Koutarou had no intentions to act on his desires. Secondly, he had stronger emotions restraining his lust.  
  
  
Kaneki’s internal panic seemed to be equally distributed over the concepts of romantic love and sex. He was afraid of being afraid, and so he began to push himself ( _find his limits, shove away the nightmares_ ).  
  
  
He knew he wasn’t afraid of himself or of his own desires. Kaneki just hadn’t wanted anybody in a long time. He hadn’t been in a position to relax enough to be aware of lust.  
  
  
Koutarou was an attractive guy. He could see that objectively. Subjectively, he could also acknowledge that he himself was attracted to Koutarou.  
  
  
He had been since forever ago. Their meetings had been…intense. It just never turned into anything big. Then they came here and anything Kaneki had felt was obliterated under waves of insecurity, fear, depression, and just…his entire existence. **_His entire miserable existence._**  
  
  
He’d been sortof interested in men before he’d been turned into a ghoul. They’d been less appealing than women though, so he hadn’t thought much of it ( _just another difficulty in his life that he hadn’t wanted to deal with. His aunt had-_ ). He knew more than enough about different sexualities to not really be surprised or care.  
  
  
Admittedly, he probably wouldn’t have noticed his attraction if his meetings with Koutarou hadn’t been so emotionally and physically charged.  
  
  
Close-quarters had made that attraction grow even though Kaneki had been sure it was dead. The whole thing was tainted with terror. It was frightening to think Koutarou felt the same way. He couldn’t bear the idea that he felt more.  
  
  
The dreams wouldn’t let him leave the idea alone, however. So, in his lowest moments, when he felt lower than a slug crawling on the ground, Kaneki toyed with the idea of giving Koutarou what he wanted.  
  
  
He thought about throwing all his burdens away through sex. **_People did it all the time._**  
  
  
He imagined himself in complete control of everything. He’d be able to leave when he wanted to, to touch what he wanted to, without fear of someone touching him back or restraining him.  
  
  
He wouldn’t have to struggle against anything, ** _he wouldn’t have to be hurt_** , because he would be the one in control ( _he wouldn’t let anyone own him_ ).  
  
  
When he’d finally acclimated himself to little touches between himself and Koutarou ( _only as long as Koutarou was guileless_ ), Kaneki let his thoughts wander further. It had been ages since he’d masturbated and the action was freeing.  
  
  
He got himself off thinking about only seeing desire in Koutarou’s eyes ( _nothing more, nothing less_ ). He finished with the hazy remembrance of the heat of Koutarou’s body against his when he’d clung to him before.  
  
  
He didn’t feel ashamed, shaky, or sick when he was done ( _though he was stomping all over Koutarou’s feelings in the privacy of his own mind_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki just felt confused.  
  
  
Sexual desire wasn’t so hard for him to look at, not in fantasy. Not when he could envision himself dictating every action ( _otherwise...he didn't want to think about it_ ). Intimate feelings however…  
  
  
Whatever bond he was beginning to form with Koutarou was frightening. It was unfamiliar in strength and character. It wasn’t…right.  
  
  
**_It just wasn’t right._**  
  
  
When he tried to integrate it into his fantasies or even just think about it, Kaneki’s gut clenched. He could only see himself hurting Koutarou. He could see himself never being able to let Koutarou do what he wanted to ( _dictating every action…_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki wasn’t willing to lose him, but he wasn’t willing to torture him either. He couldn’t make a choice about how to face his emotions. He couldn’t even figure out what he wanted his feelings to be.  
  
  
Again and again, indecision froze him in place ( _one step forward, a half-step back, until the day he just stopped moving_ ).

  
  
~~~~~~

The nights continued to fall.  
  
  
They always did, even when Kaneki couldn't see the darkness growing outside.  
  
  
Nightmares still brushed against his mind. Sometimes they were intense, brought about by some new revelation ( _each time Koutarou and Kaneki got too close, each time he accidentally hurt Hide’s feelings, or when he couldn’t stand to eat another slice of meat_ ).  
  
  
More often than not however, they were replaced by the feeling of fingers in his hair. Though in his dreams Kaneki couldn’t tell who they belonged to, he feels no fear. For they are soft, scented like kitchen spices or tea, and will not hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we have babysteps, crying, and a couple of confessions. I've been pretty anxious about this chapter and the last one since I felt a little bit like some people might believe they were tricked by the abrupt "HideKane" tag. I didn't post it in the past because a) it wasn't my intention for this to happen and b) it wasn't a romantic thing really? I had no idea how to tag it. 
> 
> Also, for those of you concerned that Kaneki is struggling with Amon's attraction for him and that he'll reject him completely in the end: ??? No. No that won't happen. Otherwise I would tag this as one-sided. It's been scattered pretty liberally throughout the story that Kaneki's psyche is really cluttered with things like soul-crushing fear and self-hatred, however he feels a special bond with Amon. It's established to be different than his bond with Hide, especially because it is partially physical (which BTW isn't necessarily stronger/better...it's just different).
> 
> Sorry if I wasn't clear about that. I wanted to be able to portray the complexity of his feelings though. It'd just be unfortunate if anyone dropped the story because of that, so here's a little explanation I guess?


	28. Seeds (Part 6/6)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The seed has formed roots, but what does it have to cling to?
> 
> ((There is a lot of waffling around the terms 'relationships' and 'love' in this chapter. The characters all have extremely varied ideas on what all of these words should mean and so the context in which it is said is going to be important))

“Kaneki…I can’t keep letting you get away with eating less.”  
  
  
Hide announced, shoving his hands deep into his pockets to keep from wringing them. He had been waiting for Kaneki to fix his eating habits for weeks. He hadn’t mentioned it ( _he’d only poured more blood into the coffee and made slanted cuts in the meat_ ). He hadn’t even let himself think about.  
  
  
It couldn’t be ignored forever though.  
  
  
So he chose a talk session in which to bring it up. The rules prohibited Kaneki from leaving or lying. No matter how Kaneki responded, it would prove something.  
  
  
As if the **_shaving_** _s_ of meat in the fridge didn’t already. Hide had hidden away green apple dish soap for the carving knife so he’d know when he washed them. It never smelled like green apples, no matter how many times he did the dishes. It was always perfumed with lavender instead ( _the regular soap, the one he knew Kaneki was using_ ).  
  
  
“I’m not very hungry. Ghouls don’t need to eat much. Anyway, saving meat would be a good idea, right?”  
  
  
Kaneki lied, his gaze drifting off to the left as his fingers ghosted across his collarbone, not quite reaching his chin.  
  
  
“Bullshit. You’re lying.”  
  
  
Hide stated, his expression hardening at the same time Kaneki’s did.  
  
  
“I don’t want to eat people.”  
  
  
Kaneki aggressively stated. They’d been through this countless times-  
  
  
“What’s the purpose in it? For how long do I need to preserve myself like this?”  
  
  
**_Of course._**  
  
  
More than ever, Hide was aware of the fact that time was running short. No matter how many issues he tackled with Kaneki, no matter how much he loved him, nothing would ever erase everything that had been done to him.  
  
  
Though Hide wanted to remind himself that this therapy was like breathing ( _repeat until its natural_ ), he didn’t have forever.  
  
  
He wanted to have forever so badly.  
  
  
“I wasn’t born like this – it isn’t natural.”  
  
  
Characteristic stubbornness was working its way into Kaneki’s upturned chin and tight neck as he spoke.  
  
  
“I have a choice and I don’t want to eat.”  
  
  
He finished flatly. Hide had tried honesty, transparency, and reforging their relationship into something that allowed him to be more verbally supportive. He’d tried dipping back into old patterns: dancing around topics and letting problems fade by avoidance.  
  
  
Things were different in the apartment than in the outside world, though. They had to be. Old promises didn’t apply.  
  
  
There was one trick he hadn’t pulled out of his hat in awhile. It was his ace in the hole: the thing he knew would work best. He could be comfortable with it if he had to be ( _he was always capable of being what he had to be_ ).  
  
  
Straight-up manipulation.  
  
  
“I won’t eat either then.”  
  
  
Hide swore. His voice was completely even, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation.  
  
  
Koutarou was shifting uncomfortably in his peripheral vision. Kaneki was still staring Hide down however, so he couldn’t look right at him.  
  
  
The exchange between them was mounting in intensity as they both stubbornly refused to speak. Kaneki’s lips thinned until they peeled back over his teeth in a snarl. Hide’s body responded to it automatically, copying his expression.  
  
  
They both had the same thought in mind. What had Koutarou called it?  
  
  
An ‘ _I’d hurt myself for you’_ contest?  
  
  
“You know we both love you and would be sad if you starved to death, right?”  
  
  
Koutarou suddenly spoke up from his chair. Distractedly, Kaneki responded to him with,  
  
  
“I’m eating, aren’t I?”  
  
  
And released Hide from their stare-off. Taking his cue, Hide also looked at Koutarou.  
  
  
He was completely scarlet ( _all the way down his neck and collar_ ).  
  
  
Hide could **_feel_** the moment the pressure of that statement fell over Kaneki. When Kaneki alternated between gazing at Koutarou and Hide, worrying his lip with his teeth, Hide could visualize the internal conflict taking place.  
  
  
Kaneki had always been a responsible guy. He’d feel responsible for their emotions and the lessons they’ve been trying to teach him. That would wrestle with the beliefs that tainted his every waking hour (‘ _I shouldn’t be alive’ ‘I’m unnatural’ ‘I’m a burden’_ ).  
  
  
It was hard to look at him, knowing that Hide had caused some of that distress. He tried to search out another fixed point in the room to gather his thoughts.  
  
  
“Is that it? Do you love this depression then? What else have you seen of me!?”  
  
  
Hurt and anger laced Kaneki’s tone like barbs. Koutarou choked and his mouth fell open as he clenched at his chest. Hide just stopped breathing.  
  
  
“Do you just want to **_save me_** instead of **_see me_**!? This is what,”  
  
  
He gestured in disgust at himself, wrinkling his nose and holding back tears,  
  
  
“I am! **_This is all I am!_** ”  
  
  
Hide felt a thick viscous wave of emotion swamp his mind and suffocate the rational distant part of himself. He had told Kaneki that he loved him. He’d loved him since long before ( _when he was happy, when he was sad, when he was angry_ ). **_He even loved him when he was losing his mind_** ( _his hurt, anger, betrayal, and paranoia were all so similar to Kaneki’s fit of rage_ ).  
  
  
**_If Kaneki thought this was all he was, if he’d reject any other kind of love, then…_**  
  
  
“Your sadness shaped your thoughts and tainted your perspective, but it isn’t all of you.”  
  
  
The bits of Hide that hadn’t been dyed completely black clung onto the neutral voice Koutarou spoke with ( _Koutarou was safe. His feelings didn’t wash over Hide’s the way Kaneki’s sometimes did_ ).  
  
  
“It’s a part of you and I care about you, however I don’t love the way it hurts you.”  
  
  
Koutarou lifted a ( _shaking_ ) hand to sweep his hair out of his face, then slid it down to cover his expression.  
  
  
“So no, I’m not in love with your depression.”  
  
  
He exhaled into his hand, then slowly let it fall back into his lap. Hide caught pain in the twist of his mouth before it faded into obscurity.  
  
  
“As to whether or not you need to be saved: you’ve saved me countless times already. I’d count you less as a damsel in distress than a hero.”  
  
  
Why couldn’t he say that? The darkness had been hard to fight before and Hide felt it had grown heavier this year than any other. **_He had to be rational. He had to lead them. He had to-_**  
  
  
“Nagachika, he doesn’t hate you.”  
  
  
Koutarou stopped him in his tracks ( _was it actually as simple as that?_ ).  
  
  
Why, when he was supposed to be guiding them, did he receive guidance instead? Hide wanted to be stronger ( _but he knew that was a deadly trap_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki was peeking at him nervously. The stubborn denial in his face was forming cracks. Only Hide could navigate this ( _maybe he didn’t need to be strong_ ).  
  
  
“You’ve never needed to be saved by me, buddy. You need to learn how to save yourself – the only thing I’ve done is try to give you time.”  
  
  
He comforted his friend. Even if he hated them, Hide knew his limitations. He was the only one who knew these things with certainty. He was their tactician, their planner, and Kaneki’s best fucking friend.  
  
  
“I’ve always loved you; every part of you. If it’s yours, I’ll love it, even if it hurts you. I’ll only love it because it’s a part of **_you_** though.”  
  
  
Something awful skittered through Kaneki’s gaze in a heartbeat. As soon as it came, it was gone, but Hide felt he had been acknowledged by something.  
  
  
“ ** _You’re mine, ‘Neki.”_**  
  
  
He finished, crossing his arms and broaching no disagreement. He shifted the weight of his regard to Koutarou for a second. The man visibly flinched and frowned disconcertedly.  
  
  
“I don’t want to have to watch your meals, Kaneki. You can handle yourself, but also don’t seem to think you deserve to be treated well, so I feel obliged to change your mind.”  
  
  
Hide cycled back to the beginning of this argument. One of Kaneki’s eyes visibly twitched and his shoulders rose. Koutarou coughed lightly into his hand and Hide cocked an eyebrow as Kaneki’s defensive posture eased.  
  
  
“I can get by on less. I don’t need to eat so regularly now that my injuries are healed.”  
  
  
Kaneki grumbled, playing with his fingers.  
  
  
“I don’t want to eat this much.”  
  
  
Before Hide could dig in his heels and turn the conversational into a full-fledged argument, Koutarou coughed again ( _much more pointedly this time_ ).  
  
  
“He’s making a good point, Nagachika. He knows his body best.”  
  
  
There was a triumphant glitter in Kaneki’s gaze when he lifted it from his fingers. God, Kaneki had always been stubborn, however Hide thought he was getting more obvious about it.  
  
  
If he wanted to take back pieces of his life, so be it. Hide would just find a way to stop him from hurting himself if he had to.  
  
  
He could d-  
  
  
“Please, just make proper meals for yourself, Ken? I’ll respect whatever your decision is, but please take our feelings into consideration.”  
  
  
Koutarou pleaded, making his ‘I am just a little puppy, why did you kick me?’ face.  
  
  
Kaneki avoiding making eye contact with him, however Hide could see the effect of the face kicking in. Kaneki pursed his lips in frustration before nodding once sharply and leaving the room.  
  
  
Maybe Hide had been about to go too far.  
  
  
“Hey Koutarou,”  
  
  
He started, staring at the ceiling.  
  
  
“Relationships are hard, aren’t they?”  
  
  
A loud exasperated groan met his ears and Hide grinned ( _things were still fine_ ).

  
~~~~~~

  
  
There was a back-and-forth running between Kaneki and Hide in front of the TV screen.   
  
  
“Quick! Quick!!!! Kaneki, you need to kill the thing ri-“  
  
  
“Kill the thing he says. Fire an arrow he says. Then he steps in the way and ruins everything.”  
  
  
“Rude! I’ll have you know that I am very good at this game and that was a strategic maneuver!”  
  
  
“Strategically placing yourself in the line of fire, huh? What, were you trying to save the enemy’s life then?”  
  
  
“You don’t know the pig man’s backstory! He could have a family!”  
  
  
“You blew up like 5 of them earlier, Hide.”  
  
  
“Maybe I’ve had a change of heart!”  
  
  
“Of course, in these past…”  
  
  
Kaneki checked the clock,  
  
  
“Two minutes, you’ve learned many lessons about life and loss. You’ve seen the rise and fall of our enemies and have begun to view them as human.”  
  
  
“When the last pig man fell, I saw the look in its eyes, Kaneki. For just one second,”  
  
  
“In the sunlight, Hide. For one second in the light of the setting sun.”  
  
  
“In the dramatic lighting of the setting sun, I saw a single tear slip down that pig man’s face.”  
  
  
“Did it glitter with the dying emotions of a fallen empire?”  
  
  
“It did! It changed me, Kaneki!”  
  
  
Amon sat on the couch and swivelled his head to-and-fro, following the ping-pong style banter. He’d tried to keep up with the conversation earlier since he’d felt left out ( _he wasn’t any good at video games_ ), however…  
  
  
“The pig men are just trying to reclaim their land. Hide, you’ve opened my eyes.”  
  
  
“All this time they’ve been stepped on and oppressed!”  
  
  
“Held captive by a society that doesn’t understand them!”  
  
  
“We are the warriors of a false ideal! We must turn the tide of this battle by making a noble sacrifice!”  
  
  
“We must step into the line of fire! As the sun sinks below the horizon and night falls upon the land, the pig men may whisper tales of our deeds.”  
  
  
“Our blood has been spilt and baptized this land.”  
  
  
“Indeed, we have pled the blood for these lost souls. The god of war will ride with them again.”  
  
  
It was too fast-paced for him. At this point, he didn’t even mind just kicking back and listening though.  
  
  
“Unfortunately, the god of war will never ride with YOU again, Hide.”  
  
  
Kaneki was being sassy. He’d only ever been trained to expect Akira’s level of sarcasm. This was something completely new ( _and the way Nagachika kept it rolling was bizarre_ ).  
  
  
“Wha- are you saying that-“  
  
  
“Yes. Only one sacrifice was needed. My eyes may be open, but tonight is not the night I die.”  
  
  
“Betrayer!”  
  
  
“Betrayer? I was simply not a fool.”  
  
  
They’d both adopted ridiculous accents at this point and incredibly formal speech ( _it was like watching an improv comedy routine_ ).  
  
  
“And, because I am not a fool,”  
  
  
A wicked grin spread across Kaneki’s face as Nagachika lifted a scandalized hand to his mouth.  
  
  
“I will finish my mission and escape into the night. When I have saved the princess and have political power, I’ll make change for the pig men. I’ll sacrifice these few for the good of land.”  
  
  
Nagachika was pretending to die now. It looked like he was pantomiming drowning in a pool of his own blood maybe? He rolled off the couch with a thump and continued his dramatics.  
  
  
Kaneki knelt on the carpet next to him, a grave expression on his face.  
  
  
“There are no noble men, Hide.”  
  
  
He whispered, pretending to shut Nagachika’s eyes and folding his hands over his chest.  
  
  
“There are only idiots who have no spatial awareness in video games.”  
  
  
Amon muttered under his breath, unable to help himself. The sudden tone change must’ve gotten to both men of the floor, because they were suddenly howling with laughter. After a few seconds, Amon started cracking up as well.  
  
  
“Says the guy who’s even worse at them!”  
  
  
“But he’s right! He’s so RIGHT! That is so much better than what I was going to say!”  
  
  
As the guffaws began to fade away, Amon found himself basking in an afterglow of delight. It had been fun to watch Kaneki and Nagachika’s back and forth, however nothing compared to being included in it ( _to being wanted. To fitting in_ ).  
  
  
Wiping away the moisture in his lashes, Kaneki smiled awkwardly at Amon.  
  
  
Semi-awkwardly, actually ( _was that even a word?_ ).  
  
  
The entire night ( _game-night as designated by Nagachika_ ), Kaneki had been ebbing in and out of his comfort zone. Every so often a delicate long-fingered hand would brush over his skin and Amon would shiver, blink, and it would be gone. It danced around his shoulders, his collarbone, and the dark black nails of it scratched against his knees.  
  
  
Every motion had been like a test. Each time Kaneki pulled away was defined by the look on his face ( _realization, resignation, and then defiance_ ).  
  
  
It alternately made his heart race ( _skin on skin_ ) and relaxed his worried mind ( _because he wasn’t quite as frightening as before_ ). The combination was heady and left him light on his feet.  
  
  
Once, when he was just a child, he’d gone to visit a butterfly sanctuary. When Kaneki’s hands barely kissed his body, Amon felt much like he did then ( _waiting for butterflies to land on his slightly twitching shoulders or on his head then holding his breath to keep from frightening them_ ).  
  
  
Amon felt his eyes water and hoped the previous laughter tears would cover up their new misty film. His fingers and toes started tingling in a bubbly hypersensitive way. Against his will, the right side of his mouth curved upwards as he lifted his gaze to watch Kaneki and Nagachika gather themselves.  
  
  
Surprisingly, Kaneki was already observing him. There was a naked vulnerability in his expression. It was the same kind he usually closed off when Amon caught sight of it. This time, he allowed it to stay there ( _it made Amon forget to breathe_ ).  
  
   
Kaneki was half-turned towards him, staring at him over his shoulder. He was worrying his lip and idly scrunching the hem of his shirt like a child. A shy smile, much more genuine than his earlier attempt, twisted around his teeth.  
  
  
His gaze was so gentle and protective, that Amon was struck with the urge to t ** _each him how to love himself dammit!_** Kaneki was such a wonderfully soft person. Soft and strong and just…  
  
  
He was beaming like an idiot. The grin spread across his face naturally without resistance. It was embarrassing. It was glorious.  
  
  
Slowly but surely, Kaneki’s smile increased in width and warmth. His hand rested lightly on Nagachika’s shoulder and Amon watched it squeeze once for reassurance.  
  
  
Nagachika turned to observe him and Kaneki, then nodded to himself. Amon found himself heaving a loud sigh of relief. Silence followed it, then sniggers, and soon everyone fell back into breathless airy laughter.  
  
  
Progress was slow, but it was worth it.  
  
  
**_It was so worth it_** ( _maybe God cared about him after all_ ).

  
~~~~~~

  
  
They’d only ever had one ‘official’ private talk session before, so Amon wasn’t surprised by the nervous atmosphere in his room. Nagachika and Kaneki had been getting on extremely well lately and didn’t need to have official talks. Amon and Nagachika were talking regularly. They were good at sorting out each other’s thoughts.  
  
  
It was only him and Kaneki that still had…interpersonal issues.  
  
  
They’d been together for a month ( _maybe more? Time keeping was difficult here_ ) and it was still strange to see Kaneki doing domestic things. It was strange not to be in the midst of a battle, a dangerous situation, or in tears.  
  
  
He **_knew_** Kaneki now, but still felt like there was a gap between the past and present.  
  
  
That wound up being the topic of their talk. It all started with an apology.  
  
  
“I’m sorry I’ve been acting so strange. Or maybe this is less strange than I was when you first met me. I…it’s hard…it adjust to,”  
  
  
Kaneki pulled a pained face and waved his hand at the room as he tried to talk.  
  
  
“This. I know it’s weird that I…”  
  
  
He grimaced and a flush spread over his porcelain-pale cheeks.  
  
  
“Cling to you when I’m upset. Casual things are just…”  
  
  
Though Kaneki was usually pretty articulate, he was clearly having a hard time. Luckily, Amon empathized.  
  
  
“It’s different. I feel different about holding your hand and carrying you.”  
  
  
Amon blurted, scrubbing his hand through his hair and averting eye contact.  
  
  
“I think I reach out to you when I’m panicking as well. In a situation like that I feel like you…you’d get it. Like you get me and you can help me. Like you have the answers I’m looking for.”  
  
  
In his peripheral vision, Amon watched Kaneki tap his nose thoughtfully at his statement.  
  
  
“For me, I don’t know if I think you have answers. It’s like you’re there physically though. Uhm…like through force of will or strength, you can protect me.”  
  
  
Kaneki muttered, covering his face with his hands. Amon could see why – it was a little funny to think of himself as a half-ghoul’s physical protector ( _though…he didn’t disagree_ ).  
  
  
“There is an element of understanding though. This might be a little out of line, so tell me if I’ve upset you, but I believe we’re rather similar. Our experiences and our emotions about  
them seem to stem from the same source.”  
  
  
Kaneki explained. Amon hummed in agreement. He couldn’t say he had the same emotional or creative intelligence as Kaneki. He couldn’t even say he understood what being turned into a different species felt like. However, there were key parallels between them.  
  
  
Some of the tension in the room dissipated immediately. Amon was tempted to mention that he’d never be upset about being similar to Kaneki, however he was more interested in preserving the calmer atmosphere.  
  
  
Of course, words weren’t his forte, and so a silence was beginning to form.  
  
  
“I’m having a hard time interacting with you normally because our relationship isn’t normal.”  
  
  
So it was good that Kaneki was willing to keep talking.  
  
  
“ ** _I’m drawn to you_**.”  
  
  
What?  
  
  
“When the situation is bad, it just feels natural to go to you and I don’t question it. But even on a normal day, I still want to go to you.”  
  
  
Amon’s mouth was dry but he was too afraid to move. He didn’t want to do anything to distract himself from this moment.  
  
  
“I’m afraid of that. I’m afraid of losing myself. With Hide, he’s already given me everything he has. He prioritizes me and so I’m not…if I give him the same thing back, it will be ok. It’s like we’re closer to being one person than two, so I’m not losing myself.”  
  
  
This was really not how Amon was expecting this conversation to go. At all. Not even in his wildest dreams ( _nightmares? Was this going to turn into a nightmare scenario?_ ).  


“You’re your own person. You’re somebody I hardly even know. I scared of giving myself away. **_I don’t want to._** ”  
  
  
Kaneki’s fingers were tangled in his hair in frustration. He body was curling in on itself like he was going to disappear. Throughout it all, he was still staring at Amon, however.  
  
  
Despite what he’d just said, he wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t running away.  
  
  
**_Kaneki was drawn to him_**. He just didn’t want to…  
  
  
No.  
  
  
He just wanted to protect himself. He didn’t want to open himself to another relationship in which he could hurt and be hurt. Not one that was more intense than those he’d already formed.  
  
  
“If you want to know about me, we don’t need to exchange information equally.”  
  
  
Amon began, pausing when Kaneki’s leg jerked violently ( _had he surprised him?_ ).  
  
  
“I can just tell you things that you want to know. You don’t need to share anything in return.”  
  
  
Kaneki's face was beginning to twist in confusion and the tension was mounting again. It was awful to want to hug someone while knowing it is the exact opposite of what they need.  
  
  
“Nagachika was telling us about 'fortune-telling'. How we shouldn’t try to predict the future without a solid basis. Since you say you don’t know me well, how about I hand control over to you?”  
  
  
He desperately wanted to tell Kaneki to give him a chance. He wanted to push him, find out more about those feelings he’d admitted to ( _drawn to him…different than Nagachika_ ). He wanted so many things.  
  
  
**_So many selfish things._**  
  
  
He didn’t need them though. **_He was stronger than that._**  
  
  
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. You can gather information, test me, and decide what you want to do with our relationship.”  
  
  
Amon tried to elaborate on his plan. A flicker of panic appeared in the increase of Kaneki’s breathing rate.  
  
  
“Not right now, of course. I’m saying you’re free to do as you please. Whatever you choose, I’ll respect, even if you change your mind a few times.”  
  
  
Amon tacked on. His heart broke piece by piece when Kaneki looked tiny and guilty ( _like he was expecting to be crushed, scolded, or worse_ ).  
  
  
“But what about you?”  
  
  
Kaneki whispered, his gaze piercing Amon, trying to read any negative emotions that might be hiding inside him.  
  
  
“What if I hurt you?”  
  
  
Of course Kaneki had doubts about himself. Amon squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the scraps of his courage together. He stood, approaching Kaneki’s chair in the corner of his room, and knelt on the floor before him.  
  
  
“Ken, I’m an adult. If you hurt me and I decide I can’t take it, I’m free to remove myself from the situation. If you decide that you don’t or do want to be with me in any capacity, that isn’t a decision that should change based on my feelings.”  
  
  
He extended his hands to Kaneki and waited for a response. Tentatively, Kaneki laced his fingers through Amon’s.  
  
  
Sometimes they’d take baby steps. Sometimes they’d take steps back. While Amon wanted them to continue forward towards becoming closer, Kaneki needed to choose what was best for him.  
  
  
“I’ve decided what I want, but it takes two consenting people to form a relationship.”  
  
  
He said, gripping Kaneki’s hands tightly in an attempt to convey the importance of this idea to him. He wasn’t interested in manipulating or forcing Kaneki into liking him.  
  
  
Bloodflow to his legs was beginning to cut off by the time Kaneki finally responded to him ( _though he hadn’t let go of his hands_ ).  
  
  
“Tell me about the people you’ve lost.”  


From there the questions piled up higher and higher. At one point, Amon’s legs fell asleep and he tipped over, finally releasing his hold on Kaneki.  
  
  
He wanted to laugh in relief when Kaneki relaced their fingers ( _he wanted their hands to be folded together in prayer and to thank God for the small things like a sappy fool_ ).  
  
  
Amon spilled the specifics of random points in his life. He talked about his graduation ceremony at the academy, the cat he tried to adopt when he was 10, his favourite foods, and dozens of other things.  
  
  
Once Kaneki seemingly exhausted his list of memory questions, Amon just kept talking. He tried to explain things that frustrated him, why he liked the things he did, and his thoughts on Shinohara’s constant stream of life advice.  
  
  
The flow of information only began to taper off when he started talking about his listener. Kaneki didn’t stop him from speaking and seemed to want to know more, but the temptation to ask Kaneki questions in return was beginning to distract Amon.  
  
  
“I keep thinking about the way you talked about mourning Ryouko. It’s the strangest thing, but I can’t stop thinking it was beautiful. The way you spoke about her was so sad, however there was something about it…”  
  
  
Amon paused when Kaneki’s mouth opened a fraction. He wanted to ask him what he was thinking and resisting was far more difficult than he thought.  
  
  
“I…”  
  
  
They both blurted simultaneously. Amon’s eyebrows shot up at being interrupted after such a long time. He tilted his head to the side in question and Kaneki continued.  
  
  
“I favour melancholic novels because they let me reflect on the beauty of life through the lens of loneliness. The bittersweet sensation of it speaks to many people because it makes them appreciate what they have.”  
  
  
He freed his hands from Amon’s and spread his arms out wide.  
  
  
“Loneliness makes people look at the world."  
  
  
He pantomimed something falling in a helical pattern.  
  
  
"A falling leaf to a happy man is just another natural phenomena. To a lonely man, that leaf represents a part of himself that he can’t express. The leaf becomes important, however fleetingly.”  
  
  
With his pointer finger, Kaneki drew a circle around his heart.  
  
  
“We become more introspective in misery. We also have to come to appreciate non-human interactions and the small morsels of the ‘self’ that people give us.”  
  
  
After that, Kaneki furtively glanced back at Amon’s empty ( _still extended_ ) palms. He shut his eyes tightly, thanked him for answering his questions, and quickly left the room.  
  
  
He left Amon with many thoughts. Mostly, Amon pondered why his life had to be so incredibly complicated. In the back of his mind though, he was wondering about something else.  
  
  
He thought Kaneki was beautiful down to his very soul. Now, after his little speech, Amon had to wonder why that was.  
  
  
**_How many parts of that beauty stemmed from the loneliness he’d experienced?_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had super terrible exams so this chapter is a little bit late. To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm happy with it or not so I might actually delete it. My brain is in full-on analytical mode and it dropped my wordcount by a lot.
> 
> I really hope Kaneki's feelings aren't confusing beyond comprehension.


	29. Soil (Part 1/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soil stabilizes the growth of a seedling. It gives it something to hold on to. However, it can be washed away if there aren't enough roots to anchor it.
> 
> (Potential trigger warning for persons with eating disorders)

The new paperbacks Hide had stocked up on surrounded Kaneki like a fortress. Hide had been relaxing for the past few hours, kicking back with new music, and Kaneki had evidently decided to read the day away. He was fast asleep in the armchair ( _his mouth slightly open_ ) and a novel was messily splayed over his stomach.  
  
  
Now that his headphones were off, Hide could listen to the soundtrack of Kaneki’s quiet breathing and Koutarou’s soft curses in the kitchen ( _it’d been awhile since he’d cooked a meal by himself. Evidently, he wasn’t doing a good job. Cookbooks could only save people with some hint of skill_ ).  
  
  
It was soothing. It felt like cool mountain air in his lungs on a hot day.  
  
  
Unable to resist, Hide kneeled in front of the chair. He carded his fingers through Kaneki’s hair, tears pricking at his eyes when his friend smiled in his sleep.  
  
  
He’d managed to make him happy.  
  
  
**_This plan didn’t fall through.  
_**  
  
Even though so many others had failed, this one was actually working. Just a little bit, but it was **_working._**  
  
  
Fat droplets rolled down Hide’s cheeks as he pressed his lips to Kaneki’s forehead and remained still ( _focusing on breathing_ ), frozen in time. When Koutarou peeked out of the kitchen to call him for dinner, Hide couldn’t tear himself away. Only when Kaneki opened his bleary eyes and yawned his name could Hide move again ( _trailing absentmindedly after Kaneki into the kitchen and ignoring Koutarou’s analytical look_ ).  
  
  
**_They were happy, weren’t they?_ ** He hoped they could be happy awhile longer.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
“Hide, are we allowed to spar?”  
  
  
Kaneki asked, nodding to Amon and himself in the workout room. Amon perked up at the query; he understood what it meant. Kaneki had confidence in his physical prowess, so he’d feel safe in a mock-fight ( _safe enough to tou-_ ) and could have the opportunity to test his restraint against a human target. It brought Amon back to his early days in the academy, when his instructors danced around his blows and let him work out with actions what he couldn’t say with words.  
  
  
Surprisingly, Nagachika didn’t hesitate to give Kaneki permission. He looked almost eager. When Nagachika was eager, that always meant something ominous in the future.  
  
  
Amon eyed him suspiciously, wondering what exactly his intentions were.  
  
  
Amon’s suspicions couldn’t hold out against Kaneki’s excited expression, though. He felt adrenaline beginning to pump through his own veins at the prospect of a fight ( _his long-suppressed hot-headedness crawling back to the surface…he could almost hear Akira reprimanding him_ ).  
  
  
“I’d enjoy a fight, myself. Not that you asked for my permission or anything, Ken.”  
  
  
He quipped, a boyish grin filling his face. Kaneki cocked an eyebrow and a finger at him in a clear gesture to get started. Amon laughed, running his hands through his hair before stretching out his limbs.  
  
  
This was going to be fun.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Whatever Amon had expected from a spar, it wasn’t this. Kaneki moved like a dancer more than a fighter ( _though his stance was solid and he gave no ground_ ). Every blow they exchanged was glancing ( _heated skin sliding against skin_ ) and each movement flowed into the next seamlessly.  
  
  
Amon was used to brutal grueling battles of attrition. Stamina and strength had won him many more fights than creativity. After all, his weapons couldn’t match the versatility of a kagune ( _his main weapon was a glorified club - not the most flexible thing around_ ).  
  
  
Not to say Kaneki was using his kagune. He’d kept it carefully tucked away, relying purely on his flexible body and mind to attack and defend. He was obviously predicting Amon’s movements and guiding his own to slide against them, smirking at the challenge it presented him.  
  
  
A few things occurred to Amon as he watched Kaneki rise up onto his toes ( _a striking position similar to a snake_ ).  
  
  
Firstly, Kaneki had been practicing secretly. He wasn’t even the slightest bit stiff and all his movements looked natural. A spared glance at Nagachika verified this assumption: **_he looked irritated_**.   
  
  
Secondly, some of Kaneki’s defensive positions came from the series they’d been reading together, The Sacrifice. They were poses meant to accompany the use of a small round shield ( _he’d adapted them so that his hands could serve as the ‘shield’ and it was so clever Amon nearly cried at his own stupidity_ ). Though Nagachika had notably avoided bringing nonfiction books into the apartment, some real life fighting tips had been buried in the fantasy novels.  
  
  
Thirdly, Kaneki would teeter every so often like he was off-balance. It seemed like he usually used his kagune to centre himself, similar to a cat’s tail. He was adjusting to the change at an alarming rate however, and Amon was beginning to struggle to keep up without resorting to less conventional means.  
  
  
Finally, Kaneki’s physical strength was almost identical to his own. Amon was actually just the slightest bit stronger and, as they engaged each other in an series of parries and blows, this fact seemed to surprise Kaneki.  
  
  
“It’s not that strange.”  
  
  
Amon said, his left arm and back straining against the pressure Kaneki was placing on them.  
  
  
“The general public calls people like me the ‘0.001%’.”  
  
  
He grunted as he shoved his arm forward, pushing Kaneki backwards a step. Kaneki could disengage at any time and probably kick his ass, but he seemed to be having fun with their deadlock.  
  
  
“I’m a genetic rarity; my physical strength and stamina far exceed the norm.”  
  
  
Amon pushed forward again, though this time Kaneki rotated his arm slightly, readjusting the force of Amon’s shove so that it was dissipated throughout his body. The pose made his hips jut out in a distracting way that had Amon speaking before thinking.  
  
  
“Simply put, **_I’m not that delicate_**.”  
  
  
He announced, a broad challenging grin on his face. Kaneki grinned back, altering his pose further to place more strain on his legs. Amon was about to push him again, see if he could overwhelm this martial arts form with raw strength, when Nagachika chuckled.  
  
  
“So, you’re saying you can handle some **_rough treatment_** , Koutarou?”  
  
  
Nagachika crowed, placing heavy emphasis on ‘rough treatment’. Amon’s head jerked around to stare at him and he caught something flinty in Nagachika’s gaze. It was unfriendly and sent a chill down his spine.  
  
  
Abruptly, Kaneki disengaged and Amon stumbled forward, nearly colliding with him. He veered to the left and toppled to the floor instead, laying there half-naked with his chest heaving. The exhaustion of the fight was finally catching up to him.  
  
  
There was a beat of silence in which Kaneki’s eyes flitted over his torso and face. Amon’s heart rate sped up impossibly when Kaneki dry-swallowed.  
  
  
“I need a shower.”  
  
  
Kaneki muttered, swiftly turning on his heel and leaving the room. When the door slammed shut, Amon and Nagachika rounded on each other.  
  
  
“What was that, Kou-ta-rou? Trying to show off your good points as a suitor for a **_deadly_ ** ghoul?”  
  
  
Unmistakable venom dripped from Nagachika’s voice. It was confusing and made Amon’s hackles rise angrily. His inhibitions had been lowered by the spar, so he was more than ready to snap right back.  
  
  
“What the Hell, Nagachika!? I was just trying to tell him not to worry about hurting me!”  
  
  
He bitterly grit out, glaring heatedly at the stubborn bastard. Nagachika turned his nose up at Amon, though it didn’t completely conceal the vulnerability his expression held. He must’ve realized that, because seconds later Nagachika stormed out of the room.  
  
  
A heavy feeling settled in Amon’s chest when the door slammed shut for the second time. Nagachika…  
  
  
No, he wasn’t worried about him. **_There was no reason to be._**

  
  
~~~~~~

  
During their regularly scheduled talk time, Hide felt a distinct surge of anxiety. They’d covered all the psychological discussions he’d planned out. They’d caught up on all the main details from each others lives.  
  
  
Everything was being dealt with, slowly but surely, with the exception of their interpersonal relationships.  
  
  
Awareness of that fact was seeping into Koutarou and Kaneki as well. He could read it in Koutarou’s newfound obvious affectionate attachment to Kaneki. It was present in the reduced amount of ‘alone time’ they were engaging in. It was becoming clearer and clearer in his small spats with Koutarou.  
  
  
He hadn’t meant to come to this realization so soon. He’d been trying to forget about it. He’d guided their talks on as usual, covering smaller more intricate things ( _dissembling Kaneki’s cold demeanor when threatened, piecing apart Koutarou’s clinging fears over the morality of his past actions_ ). It had been working just fine.  
  
  
Until he looked at the bookshelf, that is.  
  
**_  
It was full._**  
  
  
More than full: **_it was overflowing.  
_**  
  
Fear was crawling up his back and Hide couldn’t really put his finger on why. The sensation was oppressive and his smile faltered for a second as he encouraged Kaneki to keep talking.  
  
  
His heartbeat was suddenly all he could hear ( _thundering rushes of blood filling his thoughts_ ). Hide had to wonder if he was going to be ok.

  
~~~~~~

  
  
As alone time dwindled, exercise time seemed to increase. Hide was pretty sure he’d never been this fit before in his life. It felt like his muscles had muscles.  
  
  
He had nothing on Koutarou and Kaneki though. It was still disconcerting to see his friend get ripped. No matter how hard he pushed himself, Hide couldn’t possibly reach their physical level.  
  
  
Originally, that had been the intention. By being slower, softer, and generally weaker than them, he could place limiters on what they could do. But it was good for Kaneki to spar and Hide had let him. Now, however, he regretted that decision fiercely.  
  
  
Holding the two of them back was quickly becoming impossible. Koutarou’s ribs had healed, though Hide couldn’t figure out how it happened so quickly ( _he wondered more and more about what it meant to be a member of the 0.001%_ ).   
  
  
How much time had Koutarou spent being injured?  
  
  
How much time had they spent here?  
  
  
Koutarou was encouraging Kaneki’s physical growth at an ever-increasing pace ( _Hide was being left in the dust_ ). He was currently teaching Kaneki muay thai, saying something about it suiting Kaneki’s favoured striking poses, and showing him the basics of something called ‘circle-walking’.  
  
  
Hide wanted to research it as well, but he was afraid of bringing practical books into their safe space or staying away too long to read them outside.  
  
  
The fears that had been strangling Hide eventually drove him to teach Kaneki what little he knew about street-fighting. He’d picked up little bits and pieces from…observing them in the past. Though he’d never been good at punching people, he understood dirty tricks better than anyone else.  
  
  
It helped ease his conscience that his tips were reducing the physical effort Kaneki had to exert in a fight. It also eased his anxiety to insert himself into whatever dynamic was forming between Koutarou and Kaneki.  
  
  
Though it was his room Kaneki wandered into when he was lonely, his hands that he trusted, and his counsel Kaneki would seek, he could recognize that whatever Kaneki and Koutarou had was **_different_**. He didn’t know where he belonged in it.  
  
  
While he was musing ( _exhausted and drinking heavily from his plastic water bottle_ ), Koutarou and Kaneki continued to throw false punches at each other. Hide just barely tuned into the low buzz of Kaneki’s voice _(“there are defensive movements you can execute to take advantage of the enemy’s strength”_ ) and the even deeper reverberation of Koutarou’s _(“that sounds like something you would use”_ ).  
  
  
Out of interest in the conversation, he wiped the sweat from his face and peered over at the combatants. Kaneki, small and slight though he was, was in the midst of tossing Koutarou over his shoulder. Koutarou’s face was calm, so Hide assumed this was expected, and his hands were outstretched in some kind of return-grapple as he fell.  
  
  
Hide’s eyes narrowed as Koutarou’s hands slid over Kaneki’s sweat-soaked hip where his shirt had ridden up. His fingers remained loose in a long caress, suddenly tightening at the last moment to form a steady grip. It knocked Kaneki off-balance, his mouth opening in a surprised yip, and sent him toppling sideways over Koutarou as they both hit the ground.  
  
  
A hiss left Koutarou’s lips, his hand still settled on Kaneki’s hip, and Hide saw his friend’s pupils dilate hugely. A bead of sweat rolled off of Kaneki’s nose and plopped onto Koutarou’s neck.  
  
  
Hide watched as Kaneki pulled away sharply, a thinly-veiled expression of panic ( _eyes wide, jaw tense, his thumb wandering over to pull his index down_ ) stamped onto his face.  
  
  
“Ugh, I’m drenched. Gotta go shower.”  
  
  
Kaneki mumbled. He laughed half-heartedly before scampering away, sweaty feet slipping once he stepped off the exercise mats and onto the tiled floor.  
  
  
Koutarou and Kaneki were  ** _different_** than Hide and Kaneki. Hide just wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad kind of different.

  
~~~~~~

  
  
Under the scalding hot spray of the shower, Kaneki let his emotions overwhelm him. Tears burned at his eyes and the water reddened his skin. He inclined his face into the spray, allowing himself to pretend that he wasn’t crying.  
  
  
Every day, every second, every single touch…he felt like he NEEDED to come up with an answer to Koutarou’s declaration. To his stupid, nonsensical, life-threatening love ( _who the Hell falls for a ghoul? What moron goes along with that love? Why was he surrounded by idiots that couldn’t see that he was **dangerous**?_ ).  
  
  
His own emotions were far too messy to be condensed into a 'yes, I would like to be in a relationship with you' or a 'no, clearly it is suicidal for us to be together. Find somebody better'.  
  
  
No matter how often Koutarou tried to soothe his anxiety, it was alive, kicking, and trying to bludgeon him to death. His lust compounded the problem, raking long nails over his pelvis just on time for self-loathing to punch him in the gut. Then depression would stroll by, slap him in the face, and kiss him on the mouth because it was the only thing that would ever want to stay with him forever.  
  
  
Oh, he had tried to untangle the individual bits and pieces of his feelings, had tried to tell himself that it was ok, that he had time, that he was enough. **_He had tried_**. He was in goddamned therapy, wasn’t he?  
  
  
Over and over, he’d been told that these emotions were ok, that his confusion wouldn’t last forever, and that he was enough. It was reinstated for him with every talk, reiterated in his fights, and hammered home when he could eat human meat in the morning with people that didn’t even flinch at the sight ( _people who actively encouraged it_ ).  
  
  
However, one thing therapy couldn’t give him was **_time._**  
  
  
He’d seen the bookshelf, a testament to how loved he was, become overstuffed. It was overflowing because **_they were never meant to stay this long_**. He wasn’t meant to be **_damaged_** this long. There weren’t supposed to be this many **_problems._**  
  
  
**_It was all his fault_** ( _it wasn’t…and it was_ ).  
  
  
Time was running out and he could feel it in every anxious tic Hide had developed.  
  
  
Time was fucking running out and he couldn’t **_BREATHE_**.  
  
  
Kaneki slowly knelt down, seating himself on the shower floor. The water beat down on his bent head like a reprimand ( _stand up, be strong, **stand up**_ ).  
  
  
His worst fear was fear itself. It was immobilizing. It dragged him down. ** _It made him reckless._** He just wanted to conquer this hurdle in his life, to drown it, to slit its throat and leave it powerless.  
  
  
He wanted to crush it ( ** _himself_** ).  
  
  
“Tell me why I’m still like this!”  
  
  
He begged the steam rising from skin ( _as if it could have any answers for him_ ).  
  
  
“Tell me why I can’t be normal!”  
  
  
His bent head protected his face from the spray and his tears felt cool on his cheeks. He didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want to be so weak.  
  
  
**_He had to think.  
_**  
  
Maybe…maybe he didn’t really care about Koutarou. Maybe he was just using him for self-comfort _(“he’d be alright with that” something whispered insidiously to him_ ). Maybe…no, maybe this was all just going too fast.  
  
  
Too fast, too much. Too many pinpricks of heat when Koutarou touched him, too many arousing expressions on his face, too many interesting qualities in his speech ( _deep voice, inflections in his words that made him almost pass for a foreigner, the way he caressed the Latin prayers that spilt from his lips when Kaneki passed by his door at midnight_ ).  
  
  
**_Too much.  
_**  
  
Kaneki was confused. He was aroused. The combination made him feel like he was 15 again, puberty jerking at his collar and telling him that women and men were both attractive, and some sickly part of himself told him he’d have to choose one or the other. His aunt always told him he couldn’t have his cake and eat it too. It was selfish to have options, it was- ( _that past was long dead. It wasn’t something he thought of anymore. **It didn’t matter**_ ).  
  
  
He was still affected by the sensation of Koutarou’s wide palms sliding over his hips just like he’d fantasized about. Koutarou might not have noticed, but his lips were parted in submission and he had lain under Kaneki like he **_belonged_** there. Even shuddering and crying, the thick desire that had settled in him wouldn’t leave.  
  
  
To make it go away, he could just jack off. It wouldn’t mean anything. It wouldn’t answer any questions. It would just…it would just be an end to an emotion, the death of a sensation, and would calm him down.  
  
  
However, as he shut his eyes and tried to picture Koutarou’s naked torso, his deep voice moaning his name, guilt slammed into him like an freight train ( _“maybe you’re just using him. How cruel.” Violet smoke mouthed at him in the darkness behind his closed lids_ ).  
  
  
The sensory overload was too much and Kaneki stood, punching the shower wall with barely restrained force.  
  
  
“Why am I like this!?”  
  
  
His questioned hoarsely. He punched the wall again, his knuckles splitting and pouring blood into the condensation collecting there.  
  
  
“I’m supposed to be getting better.”  
  
  
He delivered another blow and the tile splintered.  
  
  
“I’m supposed to be getting better…”  
  
  
He whispered, his fist tapping softly against the radiant fractures on the wall. He slid back down to the floor, curling into a ball, muttering brokenly into his knees:  
  
  
**_“Why am I not better?”_**

  
  
~~~~~~

 

  
Seeing Kaneki hurry out of the shower ( _an extremely long shower_ ), Hide snuck into the bathroom. The impacts on the wall had shaken the door when he had gone to knock earlier and he had his suspicions about the cause.  
  
  
There was a dent in the shower and extremely thin breaks spreading out from it ( _there were flecks of blood caught in them_ ). It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened.  
  
  
Leaving the bathroom, Hide padded over to Kaneki’s room. It was pretty late into the evening, though it wasn’t quite close enough to nighttime for Hide’s plan. He thought he should give it a shot anyway.  
  
  
He opened the door quietly and stared at the lump in Kaneki’s blankets. His friend was curled underneath them, completely concealed from the world.  
  
  
“Dog pile with me, ‘Neki?”  
  
  
He said, gently shutting the door with a click ( _no need to bring in Koutarou tonight_ ).  
  
  
A hand jutted out from the sea of blankets, signing a thumbs-up at him. Needing no further encouragement, Hide wormed his way underneath them as well.  
  
  
For over an hour he lay across from Kaneki, holding his hand and trying not to suffocate in the heat and piles of fabric. Finally, Kaneki pulled them both up and displaced the blankets over their heads, giving Hide access to sweet sweet air.  
  
  
“Hey buddy.”  
  
  
Hide murmured, rubbing his thumb over Kaneki’s knuckles and smiling softly at the petulant set of his mouth.  
  
  
“Just relax. Slow down.”  
  
  
Hide comforted him. Kaneki twitched, frowning thunderously, but Hide freed one of his hands and smoothed away the furrow in his brow by spreading out his fingers.  
  
  
“None of that, now.”  
  
  
Hide’s tone took on a chiding element. Kaneki sighed quietly, leaning his forehead against Hide’s palm.  
  
  
“Slow down and think about what you really want.”  
  
  
Hide continued, deciding to pull Kaneki close against his side rather than trying to support his head’s weight with his hand alone. Kaneki turned his face into Hide’s neck, mumbling,  
  
  
“I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”  
  
  
A half-hearted grin twisted Hide’s lips as he cheerily responded,  
  
  
“Nope! Can’t hide anything from Hide!”  
  
  
He could’ve sworn he heard Kaneki mutter,  
  
  
“That was awful.”  
  
  
But Hide chose to ignore it. He twined his arm around Kaneki’s waist and freed himself of some of the crawling anxiety that had bothered him all week.  
  
  
“Hey, ‘Neki?”  
  
  
He questioned after they both got comfortable. Kaneki hummed in curiousity ( _his throat vibrated against Hide’s shoulder. It tickled_ ).  
  
  
“Do you want me?”  
  
  
Hide asked. He knew the answer, however he couldn’t stop himself from asking.  
  
  
“I do. I don’t want to leave you ever again. Do you want me?”  
  
  
Kaneki’s voice was little more than air blowing against Hide’s skin, though he heard him loud and clear.  
  
  
“I do.”  
  
  
Hide responded firmly, the affection he held for Kaneki bubbling pleasantly in his stomach. He appreciated being able to say these things. It wasn’t a big change from his past relationship with Kaneki, but he rather enjoyed it that way. However…  
  
  
“If it’s sex that you’re so afraid of, you could always just have it with me. You don’t need to desire somebody to do it.”  
  
  
He pointed out, not bothering to mince words.  
  
  
This issue had been bothering him ever since Koutarou began to be more open about his feelings. He had seen Kaneki struggling to touch him and Hide couldn’t understand why he was trying so hard. He didn’t need to prove anything with Koutarou. **_He wasn’t the only option._**  
  
  
Maybe Hide just didn’t understand sexual attraction?  
  
  
Kaneki slowly leaned back from Hide’s embrace with a horror-stricken expression. He had actually gone so pale that Hide wondered if he should apologize.  
  
  
“I…”  
  
  
Kaneki croaked, staring at Hide’s face like he’d seen a ghost,  
  
  
“I never thought of having sex with anyone BUT Koutarou. It never even occurred to me that I…you…even if we aren’t attracted to each other…oh God…”  
  
  
Silence reigned as Kaneki rigidly transferred his stare into space. Sighing, Hide pushed Kaneki down into laying on the bed and snuggled back up beside him. Evidently, Kaneki hadn’t noticed the change in position while he continued to gaze blankly at the ceiling.  
  
  
Hide placed his hand over Kaneki’s heart and considered the sheer horror Kaneki was experiencing at his revelation ( _he’d only react like this for two reasons and Hide was pretty sure he hadn’t misunderstood the powers of sexual attraction THAT greatly_ ). Gently settling his head onto Kaneki’s chest instead, he carefully picked his next words.  
  
  
“I know you. You would never use or abuse anybody intentionally.”  
  
  
He whispered, listening to Kaneki’s heart stop and then start again.  
  
  
“Your feelings aren’t a puzzle to solve, ‘Neki. Just do whatever you want to do.”  
  


He finished, grabbing Kaneki’s stiff fingers and beginning to play with them. His friend’s chest expanded with unsaid words, then fell again with a huff. He understood what Kaneki wanted to say: ‘it’s not that simple’ ‘I need to do this’ ‘I can’t live my whole life like this’. However, Kaneki needed to understand that **_he could_**.  
  
  
He could live his whole life with Hide by his side. Nobody would ask him for sex alongside his love. No one would ask him to stop being afraid of it, or romance, or anything else. **_He didn’t have to do anything.  
  
_ **

Even if Hide didn’t want to, he could see the answer Kaneki had been looking for. He didn’t have to do anything:  ** _he wanted to_**. What that meant for their future or for Kaneki, Hide didn’t know.  
  
  
When Kaneki came to that realization himself, Hide could tell. Kaneki’s arms wrapped around him and squeezed ( _a request for reassurance and an apology_ ). A frustrated groan escaped his lips and Kaneki pulled the blankets back over their heads.  
  
  
Hide didn’t laugh this time. It wasn’t funny, really. Having feelings was a terrible experience he almost wished he never had ( _except with them, he gets to press his lips to Kaneki’s heart and feel a fluttering happiness that even his anxieties can’t extinguish_ ).

  
~~~~~~

  
  
Once, when he was a child, Kaneki was sure he didn’t have this habit. Maybe he developed it in adolescence. Maybe it was when all of his choices were taken away from him.  
  
  
Now, when he loses control of one aspect of his life, he gains an iron grip on another.  
  
  
The slivers of meat in the fridge were already thin. As he whittled them thinner, he felt a certain sense of achievement. He felt more human. He felt like he was allowed to stay here a little longer ( _as long as the food lasts_ ).  
  
  
Maybe as this hunger grew, the other one would shrink.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
Koutarou was a transparent man, so when he asked to talk further with Kaneki about their mutual experiences with PTSD, Kaneki knew it was an effort to regain a sense of normalcy. There was a tension building between the trio that had nothing to do with their individual feelings ( _the too full bookshelf had been emptied, books scattered over one of the couches, but none of them had forgotten what it symbolized_ ).  
  


He’d made the request at the end of yesterday’s talk session and Kaneki had been agonizing over it ( _privately_ ) ever since. When he’d entered the kitchen for breakfast that morning, Hide had whacked him over the head with a frying pan and scolded him with,  
  
  
“Just do whatever you want to, dumbass.”  
  
  
They’d bickered for a long while ( _long enough for Koutarou to walk in and see Hide waving a frying pan like some threatening housewife_ ) and Kaneki had made up his mind. As he sipped his coffee, he’d furtively glanced up at Koutarou and hurriedly said,  
  
  
“We can meet up during the regular talk time. Your room is fine.”  
  
  
And now here he was.  
  
  
Staring at Koutarou.  
  
  
He was trying to think about how he wanted to start this session and Koutarou was waiting for him to spit it out already. Their stare-off was quickly growing uncomfortable. Kaneki felt the phantom pain of Hide hitting him over the head with kitchen tools again and decided to simply go for it.  
  
  
“I’m not really sure what my feelings are supposed to be. I don’t know how to go about finding the answer you’re looking for. Or not looking for. The answer **_I’m_** looking for, I mean.”  
  
  
He rambled, twisting his hands anxiously as he realized what he said had absolutely nothing to do with the topic at hand ( _oops_ ). He flushed awkwardly when Koutarou’s eyebrows shot up, however his conversational partner settled himself rather quickly ( _Koutarou’d learned to go with the flow quite well…thank God his instincts were sharp, even if he wasn’t as clever as Hide_ ).  
  
  
“We could,”  
  
  
Koutarou paused in speaking, cleared his throat, and loosened the collar of his sweatshirt ( _Hide had finally banned him from wearing a tie 24/7_ ),  
  
  
“Attempt to recreate some of our meetings. It would help us regain a sense of what we are to each other without all this…”  
  
  
He waved his hand in the air between them, looking decidedly agitated,  
  
  
“ ** _Stuff_** between us.”  
  
  
Kaneki pinned Koutarou down with another long stare. He was mulling over the concept in his mind, trying to figure out if he would be comfortable with that ( _trying to figure out what he wanted_ ).  
  
  
“To go back to the basics.”  
  
  
He clarified hesitantly, glancing at Koutarou for affirmation. He looked relieved and nodded quickly.  
  
  
Kaneki wanted that ( _simpler days when meeting Koutarou was another opportunity at redemption, some fleeting piece of comfort, and the forging of the type of bonds he understood_ ). He **_wanted_** that and he was so sick of **_wanting it_ _without_ _understanding it_** ( _like somebody put a wall in his head that prevented him from ever having anything he wanted without a logical reason_ ).  
  
  
“Alright.”  
  
  
He agreed, giving Koutarou a thumbs-up to do whatever he had in mind.  
  
  
His thumbs-up came close to becoming a thumbs-down when Koutarou slowly, carefully, scooped Kaneki up from his seat and strolled over to his own bed. He sat down, nestling Kaneki in his lap, and looped his arms loosely around him.  
  
  
Being picked up was relaxing, nostalgic even, but being chest-to-chest with a man that desired him was enough to make old fears choke Kaneki. The knowledge of what he was doing ( _what he was trying to do_ ) was overwhelming Kaneki with thoughts of ‘what do I do now? Is this right? Is this wrong? Should I leave if I start panicking or shoul-‘  
  


Koutarou inhaled deeply, his chest expanding and pushing against Kaneki’s, before releasing a long breath and relaxing his entire body. The arms that caged Kaneki loosened even further and Koutarou’s chin came to a rest atop his head.  
  
  
Kaneki felt like a trapped animal ( _just like when they first met_ ) and was prepared to lash out at any second. Koutarou didn’t move at all, however. He just breathed slowly and steadily. Confusion was overtaking Kaneki’s blind panic ( _there was no danger here, was there? This man’s throat was completely bared to him and nothing was holding him back. Humans were weak…he didn’t need to fight…_ ).  
  
  
As Kaneki relaxed, releasing his unconscious death grip on Koutarou’s shoulders, Koutarou’s chin rolled and his cheek pressed against Kaneki’s hair. He inhaled deeply again, sighing through his mouth and ruffling Kaneki’s snow-white locks ( _Koutarou’s cheek was warm in contrast to Kaneki’s cool hair and skin_ ).  
  
  
Clarity was returning to Kaneki. The situation…was somehow quite similar to how they first met. It was far less stressful, though Kaneki could almost hear his past self’s thoughts ( _will he hurt me? No, this one can’t hurt me. This one doesn’t want to hurt me. The look in his eyes, the feeling of his hands…he understands…he’ll let me sleep_ ).

  
He had been seeking reassurance and comfort in someone whom he inherently understood he wouldn’t have to explain himself to. Hide might understand ** _him_** , but Koutarou understand **_his situation_**. He was a protector when Kaneki had no other.  
  
  
Koutarou grumbled unhappily into his hair for moment, huffing and murmuring,  
  
  
“I’ve got you.”  
  
  
( _Was he safe? No, he could never be safe. Not unless he defended himself. He had to fight. Even when the others told him to rest, **he had to fight**_ )  
  
  
“Nobody can touch you now.”  
  
  
( _Could anyone really protect him? Was there anyone strong enough to do so without being a threat to him? Could he…could he trust this?)_  
  
  
“I’ve got you, Ken.”  
  
  
( _He couldn’t see anything past the wall of this man’s body. He couldn’t hear anything but the sound of his voice. The red red room he’d been trapped in felt almost like a dream_ )  
  
  
Kaneki’s hands shook when he wrapped them around Koutarou’s neck. He slid them underneath his collar ( _they had been so cold back then. It had felt like he wasn’t even alive_ ) and Koutarou didn’t even twitch. Seeking something ( _intimacy, love, a touch that wouldn’t injure him, _a touch that didn’t prod him with unasked questions__ ), Kaneki wrapped his legs around Koutarou’s hips.  
  
  
His mind returned halfway to the present when he realized what he had done. Kaneki was about to pull back, **_to apologize_** , when Koutarou gently used one hand to tuck Kaneki’s head snugly against his chest. His own head fell further, keeping his cheek resting on the smooth surface of Kaneki’s hair.  
  
  
Kaneki could hear Koutarou’s heartbeat. It was steady…and slow.  
  
  
**_It was slow._**  
  
  
Koutarou wasn't excited. He didn't want anything from him ( _a touch that wouldn’t injure him. _A touch that didn’t prod him with unasked questions__ ).  
  
  
Though Kaneki’s breathing rate had been fast, it was getting slower and slower ( _matching Koutarou's_ ). His hands had slid from Koutarou’s shoulders and were instead slipped under the hem of his shirt and pressed against his ribs. They were warmer now ( _so much more alive_ ).  
  
  
All he could smell was Koutarou. All he could see was Koutarou, his massive shoulders blocking Kaneki’s view of the room. He could only hear his heartbeat and quiet breathing.  
  
  
It was comforting ( ** _it always had been_** ).  
  
  
“You know, that Touka girl may have been right about a few things. Your pursuit of strength was never about them.”  
  
  
Though Koutarou said it softly, they both winced. Koutarou stuttered out an apology ( _however his body didn’t move an inch_ ).  
  
  
“I meant it could be a form of avoidance; **_the root of your worst fears_**. That ultimatum you were given…it might have made every choice in your life an ultimatum as well.”  
  
  
Koutarou murmured, his jaw working against the skin of Kaneki’s scalp.  
  
  
What did this have to do with recreating their meetings ( _other than that Koutarou had dumped life advice on him more than once_ )? Kaneki’s mind struggled past the contented tiredness that was washing over him to figure out an answer.  
  
  
Right, the talk about PTSD ( _the sense of normalcy they all needed back_ ). Was Koutarou trying to tie together the past and present?  
  
  
“If I don’t choose…I’m burdening someone else. I’m condemning them. I…”  
  
  
Kaneki whispered, clinging more tightly to Koutarou’s torso as he lost the words he wanted to say.  
  
  
“You’re trying to prevent that situation from ever happening again.”  
  
  
Koutarou finished for him, one of his hands rising to rub Kaneki’s back. It was embarrassing that something that frightened him ten seconds ago could turn him to jelly now ( _like the hugs he shared with Hinami…no, don’t think of those now_ ).  
  
  
“Did Hide…”  
  
  
Kaneki began to ask, everything slowing down for him while Koutarou started to give him a back massage in earnest ( _his powerful hands digging deep into Kaneki's muscles and pulllllllling_ ).  
  
  
“Yeah, me and Nagachika have talked about it. You see your future as limited, even if you won’t discuss it with us. It’s limited by choices.”  
  
  
He stated, causing Kaneki’s eyes to water.  
  
  
“I’m sorry to bring this up to you now, but it seemed like the right time. You don’t need to answer anything that I’m saying and you can always ask me to stop talking.”  
  
  
Koutarou soothed him, his hands kneading at every knot that had formed in Kaneki’s lower back.  
  
  
“It is limited.”  
  
  
Kaneki stated bluntly. His nails dug into Koutarou’s ribs ( _his thoughts turning inwards and away from the slight pain he was causing_ ).  
  
  
“But I get to choose the limits. These are my choices.”  
  
  
**_He was in control_** ( _his hands tightened further and Koutarou winced, his recently healed ribs giving slightly under Kaneki’s fingers_ ).  
  
  
“Ken…you can’t control everything. Exercise, fighting, winning…they make you feel like the fear is gone. It’s not, though. It’s controlling you when you feel like you need to control everything else.”

  
Koutarou rambled, his voice getting higher towards the end and his hands pausing in their massaging motions on Kaneki’s back. Kaneki didn’t answer him ( _instead, he tried to centre himself. The cold was creeping up on him and he had to hold it at bay like he’d been taught_ ).  
  


“Donato asked me to play along or leave him. He asked me to make a choice. After that, everything felt like it was my responsibility. **_It still does_**. I…I know it’s hard. I’m not saying you’ll be able to stop completely, but if you talk to us, we can help you pick and choose your battles.”  
  


Koutarou’s voice was a steady stream washing over him. He returned to pressing his fingers into Kaneki’s tense muscles. His voice wavered as he continued,  
  
  
“Nagachika…though it frustrates me, him limiting our exercise is good. The rules he set here are good. He knows what he can control in the world and what he can’t. His perspective is warped, but it’s good for us.”  
  
  
Kaneki could detect a note of surprise in Koutarou’s voice and, if he was less cold ( _pressing more tightly against Koutarou’s torso to retain heat_ ), he would have laughed. Hide was always taking responsibility for things so control freaks like himself and Koutarou couldn’t. The fact that Koutarou had only now realized that he trusted Hide was a little lame.  
  
  
Though he had thought himself incapable, Kaneki soon noticed he actually **_was_** laughing. He buried his face in Koutarou’s chest as his chuckles grew into full-blown guffaws, the chill from earlier seeping out of him.  
  
  
“You like him!”  
  
  
He exclaimed, pounding one fist against a solid slab of pectoral muscle. Koutarou began grumbling under his breath ( _his throat working against Kaneki’s mouth_ ) about how creepy and messed up Hide was. Kaneki absolutely lost it when Koutarou muttered,  
  
  
“What’s really wrong with the world is me trusting Nagachika with anything.”  
  
  
Kaneki leaned back just enough to see Koutarou’s petulant expression and grinned.  
  
  
“Maybe we should just let Hide take over the world, then. At least that way it’ll be wrong in a consistent fashion.”

  
Koutarou blinked once, disconcerted, before looking far into the distance. After a moment, he returned to reality, whispering,  
  
  
“He’d just pamper you…until the world fell into ruins…”  
  
  
And beginning to laugh so hard that Kaneki’s body shook in his lap.  
  
  
The sensation of Koutarou’s chest heaving against his was incredibly nice. Having Koutarou bury his face in his hair and continue to laugh was also nice. Being held by him was probably the nicest thing he’d experienced in awhile.  
  
  
It sounded so childish, but **_Koutarou was really nice_**.  
  
  
They thought similarly in all the ways that mattered. They could empathize with one another. More than anything else, Kaneki needed somebody who could empathize with him the way he did with others ( _who could protect and understand the fragility he’d tried to kill_ ).  
  
  
With a bit of confidence, Kaneki snaked his arms around Koutarou’s neck and tapped his ears. The soft snorts and wheezes of Koutarou’s giggling fit died off and Kaneki heard him hum in question.  
  
  
“Give me a piggy back ride to Hide’s room. I want to tell him that he’s become the supreme ruler of the planet.”  
  
  
Kaneki demanded, pinching Koutarou’s earlobes and keeping his face rested against the larger man’s shoulder. Koutarou chuckled, a sound rich and warm ( _that brought a tint of redness to Kaneki’s cheeks and a squeeze to his stomach_ ), and wrapped his arms tightly around Kaneki.  
  
  
“I can’t carry you on my back if you’re attached to my front.”  
  
  
He replied, laying a delicate kiss at the top of Kaneki’s head ( _it didn't stop his heart this time. All it did was make him smile_ ). Some readjustments were made and soon Kaneki was nearly seven feet above the ground, grinning down at his startled best friend.  
  
  
“Were you aware that you’ve become a tyrant who rules over the planet?”  
  
  
Kaneki asked, a mischievous grin playing around his lips and one eyebrow arched just right.  
  
  
“Every king needs a carriage.”  
  
  
Was Hide’s reply. For about an hour after that, Koutarou carried them both around the apartment, one person perched on each arm. Kaneki listened to him bemoaning what had become of his life and reached out to fist-bump Hide.  
  
  
The clock on the wall was ticking, but high above the ground with his best friend at his side, Kaneki felt like he didn't need to heed it.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Staring up at the blackness that enveloped his ceiling, Amon idly wished for the glow-in-the-dark stars he’d had in the academy. As he toyed with the idea of filling his apartment back home with constellations, his knuckles brushed against his breastbone ( _Hide had pointed out his anxious habit but he couldn’t seem to stop_ ).  
  
  
Was he a hypocrite for giving Kaneki advice he couldn’t even follow himself? For choosing to recreate their past in one of the only instances Amon could see himself as a proper protector ( _armour, he nearly whispered aloud. He could be armour_ )?  
  
  
He had made those choices on his own, paying little heed to the discussion he’d had with Nagachika before hand. He knew he couldn’t rely on him to guide him and his stupid decisions once they left this place.  
  
  
It was concerning, however he thought things worked out well. Somehow, when he thought about the future, it didn’t look as closed off as it once had. The thought of Donato was still one he avoided, but it didn’t quite…fester anymore.  
  
  
Amon wondered if one day he’d be wise. If he’d ever feel like a true ‘adult’ with his life figured out at home with a husband and kids…  
  
  
**_Time was running out._** He knew that.  
  
  
**_Choices had to be made._** He knew that, too.  
  
  
However, the choice wasn’t his to make ( _no matter how much he wished it was_ ).

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Kaneki and Hide were playing a video game when Koutarou finally wandered out of his room looking oddly haggard. Kaneki moved over to let him play and eventually found himself curled into Koutarou’s side with Hide massaging his feet between rounds.  
  
  
He arched his toes into Hide’s hands and his back into Koutarou’s lap, gently pressing against the boundaries they kept breaking and remaking. The two of them weren’t having any of his testing tonight though, and snuggled in more tightly against him without looking away from the screen.  
  
  
Kaneki wanted to know so many things. He wanted to know how they all felt about…just about everything. But the future was uncertain and right now…talking…talking seemed like a waste of time.  
  
  
“Will we see each other again?”  
  
  
He whispered into the dimly lit room without providing context ( _if they were thinking what he was thinking, they wouldn't need it anyway_ ). He felt them both tense. They spoke to him in unison.  
  
  
“No matter what.”  
  
  
They promised firmly, turning away from their game to stare at him intently. He smiled at them shakily and they nodded, returning their gaze to the TV.  
  
  
Kaneki wondered how they would all function without one another. They’d been playing a dangerous game, forming this fragile peace ( _he’s not sure his new self would be able to go without it_ ). They had become reliant on each other…  
  
  
Delicate as the breeze, Kaneki heard a whisper inside his head.  
  
  
“Let’s rest awhile.”  
  
  
It pleaded, appealing to the self he’d picked apart and glued back together with stronger stuff. It was pulling on his weakness.  
  
  
It might have worked, that calling, if it weren’t for the hands on his body that kept him awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this being a bit late! I've been trying to get myself a supervisor for my half-thesis and so I've had to pull up my grades in the lab. Don't study physiology kids! It'll drain you dry.
> 
> Additionally, I was interested to discover that physical contact from sports and fighting was one form of exposure therapy for persons with a phobia of being touched due to trauma. It makes a lot of sense to me now that I think about it. There's a certain sense of power that accompanies exchanging blows with somebody and focusing solely on them. It's good communication if you aren't actually trying to hurt someone. Also, I hope I managed to include invasive thoughts in a fashion that isn't annoying for the reader (since they tend to be repetitive).
> 
> PS. The defensive throw Kaneki uses in a part of akido!


	30. Soil (Part 2/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The earth under your feet is always there. It isn't permanent, however. It is always changing, blowing away in the wind, and building up from the death of those it once supported.

His porcelain mug was nearly scalding hot, but Hide pressed his palms tightly into it anyway, shuffling their location every few seconds to prevent actual pain. Koutarou was doing the same thing subconsciously ( _a sign that he trusted him_ ).  
  
  
The kitchen was peaceful and quiet, interrupted only by the occasional disgruntled sigh from Koutarou.  They’d been talking about Hide’s worsening attempts to conceal his high stress levels. Hide couldn’t bring himself to stop deflecting and Koutarou looked like he wanted to crack his head off of the table.  
  
  
“I’m just saying you could stand to take some time for yourself, Hide. You don’t need to keep watch all the time.”  
  
  
He groaned, pressing his hands into the mug for a second too long before pulling them back with a hiss of malcontent. Hide grinned into his own drink, secretive and feeling somewhat accomplished ( _had Koutarou even noticed the slip? Hide hoped he had – he liked the sound of his given name falling from Koutarou’s mouth far better than “Nagachika”_ ).  
  
  
Quiet fell between them again as they mulled over their separate issues. It was nice, Hide thought, to be able to just think for awhile without any pressure from his conversational partner. Koutarou was just as locked in his own thoughts as he was.  
  
  
“I just…ugh, I want to just…go, y’know?”  
  
  
Koutarou was muttering, his gaze blank and unseeing. It was also nice to be able to talk to someone whenever Hide felt like it ( _Koutarou must feel the same. He kept showing up in the kitchen at ass-o’-clock in the morning for this, after all_ ).  
  
  
“If I could make all the choices that need to be made, solve all our problems in one fell swoop…well, that’s all I want. To just do it, already.”  
  
  
It was also pleasant that he didn’t really need to be mentally present for Koutarou’s rambling. If he was needed, Koutarou would say his name ( _Hide, or would it be Nagachika again?_ ). Just having someone physically around to consult seemed to be good enough for both of them.

   
“I can see what the outcome is meant to be! I just…I don’t know how to get there.” 

Koutarou finished, running his hands through his hair ( _an embarrassingly obvious sign Koutarou was trying to calm down_ ). Hide steepled his fingers, relinquishing the mug, and made an agreeing noise in the back of his throat.  
  
  
He could see how all of this ( _the apartment, the therapy, the relationships they were weaving_ ) would work out with more time ( _how much more? He couldn’t just keep them there forever_ ), with more people, and with more freedom.  
  
  
He knew how things COULD be, however he was only one man. Hide couldn’t control the universe: he was limited in what he could do.  
  
  
“I want to see…I want…for myself…to know they are ok…I want to verify the things I’ve learned! I can’t-“  
  
  
Koutarou was repeatedly mussing up his bangs, coffee forgotten on the table. Hide cut off his ramblings sharply with a reprimand of:  
  
  
“The rules, Koutarou.”

The screeching of chair legs against the floor resounded through the kitchen when Koutarou abruptly stood and left. Faintly, Hide heard the door to the exercise room slam shut.  
  
  
Koutarou wasn’t supposed to workout alone, but Hide let him go just this once ( _losing control over the situation more and more everyday_ ). Hide got up and wandered over to press his forehead to the wall ( _where a window had been before he turned this place into a prison_ ).  
  
  
“So close. I’m so close…it’s not… ** _am I not enough?_** ”  
  
  
He exhaled, long and shaky, and then gathered himself. There was still time ( _not enough. Never enough_ ).

  
  
~~~~~~

 

_It was only on the coldest night of every year that the creature would attempt the climb. Warm water never carried enough oxygen to support its rise. Similar to a pilot spiraling out of control 30,000 m about sea-level, the creature would always plummet back into the volcanic vents that birthed it, choking on CO2 and the euphoria emitted from dead and dying dreams.  
  
…  
  
_

_It was immortal, so death was an abstract concept. The permanence of non-existence, relief from constant change, tickled its fancy. It always thought of death as it was rising. To live on land, it would have to die a thousand deaths, drying out and baking in the hot sun for an eternity.  
  
  
Perhaps that’s why it had grown obsessed._

_…_

 _  
_ _Every day its blood boiled in a different way. The burnt patterns on its skin were as unique as the snow that dampened its pain. The creature watched the world change and changed along with it.  
  
_

_Death had not gifted it with permanence._

_  
_ Kaneki stared at the last sentence that he had printed in blue ink. He’d been illustrating and outlining a story, something to keep his mind occupied, but the last sentence gave him pause. 

“If I change, will they still love me? Will I still be me?”  
  
  
His thumb, smeared heavily in cobalt blue, rubbed against the black outline of his creature. It was some bizarre cross between an anglerfish and an eel, something he was pretty sure actually existed ( _a dragonfish? A gulper eel? Deep-sea creatures always blended with whatever monster he had last read about_ ). It was astoundingly ugly.  
  
  
“To love them back, our relationship has to change…I’m changing.”  
  
  
Kaneki pondered how he’d have characters interact with such a thing. His creature could change with the world, but he’d hate to take away that visceral ugliness ( _the last permanent thing about it_ ).  
  
  
“…What would be best for everyone?”  
  
  
He asked himself, withdrawing his thumb from the indents and lines that formed his latest piece of fiction. Unable to come to an immediate conclusion and too relaxed to push himself any further, Kaneki got up and stretched.  
  
  
He might as well slink off to the kitchen with a book. He could go for a coffee ( _something was niggling in the back of his thoughts, but he knew better than to poke at it right now_ ).  
  
  
Whatever calm he had leftover from writing was the only thing that prevented Kaneki from having a heart attack when he tripped over Hide. His friend had his cheek pressed against the floor ( _a stupid habit of his when he studied for exams_ ) of the kitchen and was currently groaning, clutching his leg where Kaneki had stepped on him.  
  
  
“Why are you on the floor?”  
  
  
Kaneki sighed, reaching out a hand to help Hide up. Instead, he was pulled to the floor and, after a quick thumbs up and another sigh, cuddled into Hide’s side ( _a paperback jabbing him in the ribs_ ).  
  
  
“Hold on,”  
  
  
Kaneki said, pushing back from Hide a little. He looked over the tense lines of Hide’s shoulders and abdomen, nodded to himself, and plopped his head into Hide’s lap ( _thankfully shifting the paperback into a more comfortable location: his hands_ ). He cracked open the book, fully capable of seeing Hide didn’t want to have a conversation.  
  
  
“Tell me a story, ‘Neki.”  
  
  
Hide implored, already carding his hands through Kaneki’s hair ( _Kaneki didn’t understand the fascination. His hair was brittle and dead, though the roots were beginning to show some signs of life again_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki complied.  
  
  
“ _If today you had to choose one of the two thieves as a friend or think about which of the two you could sooner put your trust in, it's certainly not that whimpering convert.”  
_

_  
_ ~~~~~~

 

 _“When I was finally wide awake I turned quickly to the mattress next to mine. On it lay a stranger I'd never seen before. Dressing the wound hurt. Everything that has happened to me since has hurt. But sometimes when I find the key and climb deep into myself where the images of fate lie aslumber in the dark mirror, I need only bend over that dark mirror to behold my own image, now completely resembling him, my brother, my master.”  
_  
  
Kaneki finished, his voice crackling from overuse. Hide was fast asleep on the unforgiving tile, snoring softly with his hands buried in Kaneki’s hair. The circles under his eyes were much more prominent when he was in that position.  
  
  
It bothered Kaneki –Hide’d been staying up ( _the dirt on his shoes was also telling, but Kaneki doesn’t ask. It’s nearly time for him to know_ ). Gently, he disentangled himself from Hide’s octopus arms, picked him up, and carried him to the couch.  
  
  
Now that one member of his little family was taken care of, Kaneki supposed he should check on the other. If Hide was off-balance, there was a 100% chance that Koutarou would be in the exercise room ( _the mood of one had become a perfect read for the other…honestly, Koutarou still tried to claim that they weren’t friends_ ).  
  
  
Rubbing the crick out of his neck, Kaneki ambled over to the closed door ( _he could hear aggressive exhales and the creak of metal within_ ). He let himself in and peered inside.  
  
  
Koutarou was doing pullups like the powerhouse he was. His every movement screamed frustration ( _it was painful to watch_ ).  
  
  
Everyone was frustrated, but Koutarou was a man of action. He probably had it the worst. Not only was Koutarou held still in time here, but Kaneki had him trapped on an endless plateau in their relationship ( _something they both desired, yet wanted to destroy_ ).  
  
  
He understood, though he couldn’t do anything about it. He could only go with his gut ( _it was nearly time_ ).

Kaneki pushed the door open more widely, letting its hinges screech enough to catch Koutarou’s attention. He picked his way over to the weight bench and sat down expectantly. Koutarou could see he needed a spotter, forcing him to stop his over-the-top exercise routine ( _sweat pouring off his exposed chest and arms in thick rivulets_ ).  
  
  
He sat behind the bench, staring down into Kaneki’s face ( _flushed and with wet hair_ ).  
  
  
“Hey, Koutarou.”  
  
  
Kaneki murmured, settling himself into position.  
  
  
“Hey, Ken.”  
  
  
Koutarou returned the greeting, his still-heaving chest making the response come out strained and breathy ( _Kaneki’s heart thundered and his mouth went dry_ ).  
  
  
“We’ve done a lot in the past little while. We've achieved a lot of things.”  
  
  
Kaneki continued, receiving only a grunt in response ( _he had to go with his gut, had to do it while he was still relaxed and could go with the flow_ ).  
  
  
“If I were to choose anyone to be here with me through all of this,”  
  
  
Kaneki said, lifting the weights high above his throat.  
  
  
Koutarou’s eyes were tracing its travel, his attention absolutely fixed, when Kaneki let his hands flex. Just like that, he let go of the weights ( _a test, just one more_ ). Their descent was abruptly halted by Koutarou’s straining arm while he turned a panicked glare down at Kaneki, ‘what the Hell’ stamped all over his expression.  
  
  
Kaneki wasn’t done yet though, so the incoming lecture would have to wait.  
  
  
“I would choose you two. **_I would choose you.”  
_**  
  
Kaneki stared, unguarded, up into Koutarou’s face. A confused frown rested there, warring with the previous disapproval as he roughly set down the weights ( _they clattered loudly and were probably damaged_ ). Kaneki’s brow furrowed and he reached up to delicately smoothed away Koutarou’s distressed expression.  
  
  
“ ** _I do choose you.”_**

   
It wasn’t a matter of yes or no. It wasn’t a matter of what was for the best. It was a moment by moment decision, one that he could snatch away at any given second, and so he would go with his gut. 

In this moment, Kaneki wanted to touch Koutarou. He wanted to be adored, to be loved, to love somebody…  
  
  
He wanted to make Koutarou smile, to feel the exhilaration of the nights they met up on the run, and to give Koutarou back even half of what he’d given Kaneki.  
  
  
He wanted to do it as his own choice. Even if it was just right now, even if he changed his mind, he wanted to do this while he still could.

If there was anyone he would have to choose to trust with his heart and body, it was this man.  
  
  
Therefore, while he could, Kaneki wanted to break as many barriers as possible. It was selfish, but…Koutarou was smiling ( _it almost made him forgive himself for making a move_ ).

Kaneki flexed his back and sat up from the bench, pressing the first few inches of his kagune outwards. He glanced at Koutarou with his kakugan bared and hesitated, wondering if he would flinch away. Fortunately, curious anticipation was the only emotion playing over Koutarou’s countenance.  
  
  
Another push. He had to make another push forward ( _don’t think_ ).  
  
  
**_“Fight me.”_**  
  
  
Kaneki demanded, crooking his fingers. The agreement was instantaneous and Kaneki nearly sighed in relief as part of his old relationship with Koutarou clicked into place with the new ( _private passion and excitement; the grand reveal of how dangerous they both really were_ ).  
  
  
It wasn’t the same when Hide was watching them spar.  
  
  
Those fights weren’t nearly as reckless.  
  
  
The situation at hand reminded Kaneki of when he first got close to Touka. No matter what he had said or done, she had only let her guard down when she was injured or fighting. Fighting evened the playing field in a way injuries couldn’t. It opened up a simple method of communication ( _an honest one_ ) and suited people who had been wounded by words countless times.  
  
  
It wasn’t a method of communication that never would have worked on him in the past ( _instead it would’ve terrified him, forcing him to lock those memories into the back of his mind forever. He had never like violence, even if that wasn’t exactly what this was_ ). However, now it was exactly what he needed.  
  
  
Skin dragged against skin as the pace increased.  
  
  
Koutarou was exhibiting so much restraint – staying here, staying still, limiting himself…it must be hard for him. Kaneki remembered exactly how passionate Koutarou could be. This fiery impulsive man was trying his damnedest to be gentle with him, even in the midst of combat.  
  
  
Koutarou probably wasn’t even aware of how soft his actions were ( _blows coming closer to a caress than something meant to break his bones. When Koutarou’s body skated alongside his, Kaneki almost felt like he was forming a wall between Kaneki and the world. Like he was armour_ ). This fight was meant to be void of thought, totally unplanned, and yet Koutarou’s restraints stayed intact.

   
Those thoughts rolling through his mind soothed something in Kaneki, all the while setting something else ablaze.

   
He let the ghoul part of himself touch his sparring partner. He let it wrap around the room, splaying over the exercise machinery, and listened to the whisper of hunger in the back of his mind. It spoke to him of food ( _he’d been going without for so so long_ ) and, when Koutarou pulls him in close with brute strength, it murmurs in his ear about HUNGER.

  
It must have shown on his face: Kaneki was afraid. Koutarou was afraid, too. However, not of what they should be in that moment ( _in that incredibly dangerous moment_ ).  
  
  
Fools that they were, they were afraid of proximity and gentle touches, not of teeth and blood and bone ( _the plaintive calls from Kaneki’s stomach went ignored_ ).  
  
  
They were face-to-face and Koutarou’s breathing was labored. All of his muscles were strained, though he remained standing still ( _above all else, discipline ruled him. He wouldn’t move, not until he had permission_ ).

   
_(Don’t think_ )

  
Kaneki leaned forward, ghosting his mouth over Koutarou’s ( _his kagune twitched at the whisper of flavour_ ). The battle high was already fading and nagging worries were stabbing into his spine, but Kaneki didn’t pull away. He remained frozen, his lips barely touching Koutarou’s, and waited.  
  
  
Green met grey ( _and black and red_ ). Soon, so soon, Koutarou’s lips fell open in submission ( ** _in want_** ). They stood still for a moment, just breathing each other in ( _Koutarou’s eyes sliding shut and his breaths shudderingly irregular_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki’s hand rose and he thumbed at Koutarou’s bottom lip past the press of their mouths, dragging it downwards. A low moan rumbled out of Koutarou’s chest and his tongue darted out of his mouth, passing over Kaneki’s skin ( _a thick liquid shiver passed straight to Kaneki’s pelvis. Koutarou’s eyes were half-lidded, appealingly dark and trusting…submissive even. He…)._  
  
  
Kaneki shut his eyes and whispered,  
  
  
“Koutarou, I’ve made a choice. **_I trust you_**.”  
  
  
Barely making space between their lips as he spoke, his hand unmoving ( _his heart racing_ ). Another shaky exhale cooled Kaneki’s damp skin ( _causing his earlier shiver to turn into a fizzling array of sparks, like static, and Kaneki’s eyelids shuttered_ ).  
  
  
“Wait, please.”  
  
  
Koutarou pleaded, one of his large palms lifting to circle around Kaneki’s by his mouth ( _his dry lips sliding against Kaneki’s thumb, his teeth dragging over the skin momentarily_ ).  
  
  
“Just…slowly, ok? Let me hold you.”  
  
  
It was murmured like a prayer and Koutarou pressed their conjoined hands to his lips as if they were a rosary. A powerful wave of grateful surety swept over Kaneki, tears pricking at his eyes, and one thought ( _don’t think_ ) stood front and centre in his mind as his kagune retracted.  
  
  
**_I chose right: this is right.  
_**

He slid easily into Koutarou’s embrace, ignoring the sweat, the heat, and what was definitely Koutarou’s erection pressing against his thighs. He wasn’t sure how all of this was meant to fit together; how Hide could own his soul and Amon could have his heart, but he wants to make them happy in this moment.  
  
  
**_He can._**  
  
  
He has to believe he can ( _or else this choice would haunt him forever, a permanent fixture of his misery_ ).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, author's notes!
> 
> The quotes are from Demain: The Story of Emil Sinclair's Youth by Hermann Hesse. It's frequently mentioned in Tokyo Ghoul and has some pretty strong connections to :RE.
> 
> Kaneki's thought process (or the absence of it) may be difficult for some readers to understand. Don't worry, it will grow clearer with time (I think). The latest chapters of :RE inspired me to try something a little different, but if you guys hate it, feel free to tell me!


	31. Soil (Part 3/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The seed has been planted and it has taken root. The soil underneath it anchors its budding body, stablized by their mutual interaction.
> 
> Finally, it's time to reach the surface. It's finally time to grow.
> 
> -Smut Warning-

Movie nights had become and endless stream of terrible comedies ( _both Kaneki and Amon would pretend that Hide was forcing them to watch, but really, all they wanted was for Hide to relax_ ). Tonight was no different: on screen, some fool dressed as a ninja was stumbling through what appeared to be a Western saloon ( _for what reason, Amon couldn’t say. He’d stopped paying attention during the opening credits_ ).  
  
  
Every ten seconds, Hide would snort or bray like a donkey. Snarky jokes passed between the three of them at lightning speed after each chuckle.  
  
  
“Really, Hide? What is funny about his left pant leg being longer than the other?”  
  
  
“It’s because he looks ridiculous!”  
  
  
“…you look ridiculous all the time, but I haven’t died of laughter-induced suffocation yet.”  
  
  
“What was that? Guys, guys, pay attention, this scene is great!”  
  
  
Cue Amon and Kaneki groaning ( _Amon tried not to listen too closely to the noises Kaneki made since…the incident last night_ ).  
  
  
“See!? Somebody stole the cabbage cart but he hasn’t noticed yet! Just wait, his reaction is priceless!”  
  
  
“…it’s priceless because nobody would pay to see this.”  
  
  
Cue Hide collapsing into a fit of laughter, gripping at Kaneki’s shoulders, and Kaneki’s eyes softening affectionately. Amon watched contentedly as Kaneki laced his fingers with Hide’s, bumping their noses together as Hide continued to laugh in his face. The two of them were really precious together, even if he wished he could join in ( _since the incident, waiting was easier_ ).  
  
  
Just as Hide was composing himself, Kaneki lifted his eyes to meet Amon’s. Like a switch had been flipped, Kaneki sat up completely straight and blurted,  
  
  
“I just wanted you to know that Hide and I are soulmates.”  
  
  
Amon’s eyebrows raised and an awkward silence fell, splats and squelches and other terrible noises continuing to emit from the TV. Hide looked positively ecstatic ( _he vaguely looked like he trying to climb Kaneki in his excitement_ ) and Amon…probably just looked confused.  
  
  
“Uh…alright?”  
  
  
He responded, clearing his throat when the silence persisted ( _Hide’s grin was getting unnerving and Kaneki seemed like he’d sucked a lemon, though he wouldn’t meet Amon’s eyes_ ).  
  
  
“We love each other. It’s not like…I don’t think it’s romantic? But Hide is a part of me and that’s very important and I feel like you have the right to know. I don’t know why I didn’t think of saying it before…”  
  
  
Kaneki was rambling, though he trailed off, flushing deeply. Amon squinted at him, trying to find the source of his embarrassment.  
  
  
“I know that. I…do you guys really think I’m that stupid?”  
  
  
Amon asked, genuinely ruffled by the whole thing. He didn’t see what the point of this whole confession was or the reactions it was drawing from the people he’d come to think of as family.  
  
  
Both Kaneki and Hide raised their heads to stare at him so quickly he heard their bones crackle. Distantly, Amon thought that it was the only time he’d ever seen Hide look truly shocked. It made him feel a little smug over the embarrassed irritation he was currently enduring.  
  
  
“I know about blood brothers and the like. There’s plenty in the bible and-“  
  
  
Amon’s explanation was cut short by hysterical laughter emanating from Hide. If he thought the noises he was making during the movie were ugly, then he had a thing or two to learn. Hide was wheezing and red-faced, completely out of control and looking more human than Amon had ever seen him. He felt pretty proud of himself for getting this sort of reaction, even though he was pretty sure he was being laughed at ( _and he couldn’t figure out why_ ).  
  
  
Completely opposed to Hide’s response, Kaneki was still thunderstruck.

   
“So much time wondering about what this feeling was supposed to be and it’s in the fucking bible. Of all the places in this screwed up world-”

  
He was muttering, his eyes wide and staring into the distance. Amon was tempted to thwack him for saying ‘the fucking bible’, but he was too curious about what else he’d say ( _clearly Hide wasn’t going to give him any answers. He actually looked like he might be dying_ ).  
  
  
“Of course, that’s the reason...the original divine love…”  
  
  
Kaneki was still muttering, turning his gaze to Hide’s silently heaving form. They stared at each other, whispering,  
  
  
“I can’t believe it was that easy. I can’t believe…”  
  
  
Before collapsing helplessly into guffaws once again.  
  
  
“The one thing we didn’t consult him abouuuuutttttttttttttt-“  
  
  
“Was the one thing we absolutely couldn’t figure out alone!”  
  
  
“I can’t believe it!”  
  
  
They were yelling, rolling straight off the couch and wrestling cheerily on the floor. Though he was mildly offended, Amon was pretty sure he’d never seen either of them look so…young. Still, it wasn’t that funny that he understood something without extensive reading or referencing either of them ( _unknowingly, he was frowning petulantly and rubbing his hands against his thighs_ ).  
  
  
Teary-eyed and red-cheeked, Kaneki crawled over to grab his hand, turning his face into it in apology ( _his skin was warm and damp with tears_ ). He cupped Amon’s cheek, slowly, to let Hide watch ( _Amon was slightly uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure how Hide would react and he could see the jealousy flash in his eyes_ ).  
  
  
“I’m sorry, but this kind of thing doesn’t come up in any other kind of literature. Not with a label. It’s just funny that the answer was in one of the oldest texts around.”  
  
  
Kaneki said, his apologetic tone mellowed by the breathlessness of laughter,  
  
  
“All I do is read, all Hide does is look for answers, but you were the one who did both. It’s funny.”  
  
  
A whine escaped Amon when he realized he couldn’t stay mad. Kaneki was honestly happy, delighted even, to share this with him ( _for whatever reason_ ). He was still a little uncomfortable with the gravitas and relief they seemed to be lending to the situation. It made him wonder if he was supposed to be worried.  
  
  
He wasn’t really sure what a blood-brother’s bond meant for Hide or Kaneki’s well-being. He also wasn’t sure if it would effect his and Kaneki’s budding relationship ( _Hide’s jealous gaze was unnerving, though Amon had always supposed he’d be deeply involved in whatever relationship Amon and Kaneki formed_ ).  
  
  
However, he knew that biblically, married couples and the like had these bonds with other people. He wasn’t being rejected by this confession, even though the two others in the room seemed to believe he’d think that. His family had just grown a little more ( _he’d never expected anything less, when he thought about it_ ).  


Smirking, Hide interlaced his hand with Kaneki’s once again. It gave Amon an odd sense of warring competition and comfort ( _Hide would take good care of Kaneki, yet Amon also wanted a hand to hold_ ). Strangely enough, those feelings combined felt like an achievement. Like he’d done something right.  
  
  
Kaneki laughed, and Amon saw his own expression mirrored back at him in Hide’s face. **_It was love._**  
  
  
He didn’t have a problem with that.

  
  
~~~~~~

 

“We’ll all fill out a few more CBT worksheets tonight, alright? It looks like you guys are really making some headway, though I can’t speak for myself.”  
  
  
Hide announced, snapping shut the notebook he’d been scrawling in throughout their talk. He passed Koutarou and Kaneki some forms ( _they had clearly been hand-altered. Was Hide making their forms more personalized?_ ) and then threw himself back into the armchair, stretching out his arms and legs with a series of pops.  
  
  
Kaneki glanced down at the journal settled in his lap. Loose papers stuck out at odd angles, but the thing was almost entirely full ( _two pages left_ ). In it, he’d poured out his thoughts,  


' _Hide wants us to try and focus on liking ourselves more. He’s given me lists and lists of reasons I’m likeable, but it is still hard to believe in. Lately, I look healthier (less like a child…looking like that bothers me somehow. There’s a memory there, however I haven’t been able to touch it). My hair might be growing back in black_.'  
  
  
Things that he owed,  
  
_  
'Since nobody can police this journal, I can write about them, can’t I? Touka is going to murder me when she sees me again. I keep thinking about what Koutarou said about choices…and I think she was right. I want to apologize. I want to mean it this time.'_  
  
  
And things that had gotten better,  
  
  
_'Koutarou comes in to say goodnight to me now (he probably doesn’t know that I don’t go to sleep right away. Instead I stand outside his door and listen to his midnight prayers. That’s probably a little creepy). He still waits for a positive signal, but it’s easy to let him kiss my forehead at least. It’s…a little overwhelming, though he keeps his hands away, because the look on his face is indescribable. I wonder if it’s really alright to be so close to him. It feels like it might be.'  
_  
  
Kaneki deeply suspected Koutarou’s journal was exactly the same. It was much more neatly organized than his, something that probably shouldn’t have surprised him. He was tempted to read it. Each time he got close to catching sight of a page however, he was hit with the terror he would feel if someone saw his ( _few pages were as positive as he’d managed to be lately. Even now, there was an equal proportion of darkness and light_ ).  
  
  
It had been such a short time, but their journals were full. Sneakily, he’d marked off separate days in the journal margins, compensating for the lack of a calendar. He couldn’t say how long they’d been there before he got the journal, however he was certain it’d been just over a month since.  
  
  
Silently, he watched Koutarou try to tug Hide out of the armchair as they bickered over whose turn it was to make dinner. Eventually, they reached some kind of agreement, and continued their fight in the kitchen ( _“we can make curry!” “I hate spicy food, damn it, Hide!_ ”).  


Kaneki wondered if they’d be able to eat at all if they didn’t eat with him ( _they all couldn’t stomach food when they were anxious…but they had to be strong for each other_ ).  
  
  
Thinking of them, he wanted to preserve this moment in his heart forever ( _his family, arguing in the kitchen without any really rancor, and him, listening content in his ability to simply be in their presence_ ). Maybe it was all the fiction he’d been writing, or maybe underneath it all he’d been cheesy as Hell since the start…but…  
  
  
He wanted to carry them on his back across the deserts of life until they found a place to settle together. He wanted to introduce them to the family he had found in Anteiku ( _the thought of it made him sick and giddy and reminded him of the gut-wrenching sensation of having his thumb resting on Koutarou’s lower lip_ ).  
  
  
He loved the way they took care of each other ( _when he was too wrecked to help them or too selfish to be there…_ ). They both meant so much to him ( _they were more than he ever deserved_ ). He wasn’t even sure how it had happened, this bond between them.  
  
  
He knew that he wasn’t better ( _too many showers had ended in tears, too many touches in flinches, and there as many questions left unanswered as there were untouched scraps of meat in the fridge_ ). He knew that he wanted to be. He wouldn’t take back his choice (“ _I’d choose you two_ ”) and the weight of it, surprisingly, was as grounding as Hide’s arm around his shoulders or Koutarou’s eyes finally showing how much he loved him without needing to hide.

   
Like a thousand shard of glass, it was beautiful, but painful to the touch.  


He wouldn’t give it up. Not this time.

  
~~~~~~

   
In the early morning, Kaneki has a hazy dream, blurred all around the edges, as he curls tightly under his sheets.

  
_The haze is warm, almost hot, and thick as shower steam. It takes time to blink his way past it and really settle himself in the scene unfolding before him._  
  
  
_His back is damp, pressed against a wall, and his legs ache gloriously from their strained position around Koutarou’s naked torso. Blearily, he realizes that he’s nude as well, and he smiles lazily._  
  
  
_Coy as they come, he glances upwards at Koutarou’s face from under his eyelashes. He likes what he sees: Koutarou is flushed with desire, his bottom lip is bleeding freely from where he’d been biting it, and his too-long hair was an absolute wreck. Kaneki’s gaze traces over the bruises lining Koutarou’s neck and the blush that rolled down his entire well-muscled torso._  
  
  
_He was so big. Honestly, the man was practically a mountain._  
  
  
_Koutarou’s erection was hot and heavy, pressed against his thighs and pelvis. He could feel it twitching in time with his racing pulse._  
  
  
_Kaneki stomach growled and he laughed, burying his nose in Koutarou’s neck. He felt him moan underneath him, Koutarou’s hips bucking forward once._  
  
  
_“You’re trying so hard to hold still, aren’t you?”_  
  
  
_Kaneki’s voice came out sultry, completely disregarding the strain he was feeling in his own hips. Koutarou moaned again, a harsh,_  
  
  
_“Yesssss.”_  
  
  
_Hissing out from between his teeth. Koutarou began covering the top of his head with kisses, moving lower and lower until his canines scraped the nape of Kaneki’s neck._  
  
  
_**“Stay…promise me you’ll stay.”**_  
  
  
_Kaneki whispered, his stomach flipping with abrupt nerves. The world felt a little less hazy and the clarity was frightening._

  
_Koutarou’s voice was rough with emotion and lust when he gasped,_

  
_“Yes, for you, **for both of you** , yes.”_  
  
  
_His hips grinding harder into Kaneki, who was unexpectedly overcome by arousal at Koutarou’s reply._  
  
...  
  
  
Waking to the feeling of damp underwear, Kaneki stared up at his ceiling, wondering what all of that was supposed to mean to him ( _or about him, considering how that last line made him cum_ ).  
  
  
"Will we see each other again? Yes, no matter what.”  
  
  
Kaneki muttered, his throat dry and his voice heavy.  
  
  
**_He still believed it._** He actually really still believed it.  
 

Dreams were annoying and they made Kaneki want to understand the full-scope of his feelings. He wanted to know, badly.  
  
  
He groaned, frustrated, and peeled his underwear off of his skin. Shower first, questions later.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
Carrying his books into Koutarou’s room, Kaneki stretched himself out on the bed to read. From his position in the desk chair, Koutarou took it all in stride. It wasn’t the first time Kaneki had read in there, though it was the first time he’d crawled onto the bed.  
  
  
Kaneki could see the little hesitant glances he was being sent. He marked his page with a finger and flashed Koutarou a thumbs up, a sign to come over. Slowly, Koutarou picked his way over, sitting down gingerly nearby.  
  
  
Eventually, Kaneki put his book down and rolled over to face Koutarou, who was watching him with a soft expression on his face ( _all half-lidded eyes and a lopsided lift to his mouth_ ).  
  
  
“If I told you that you could touch me right now, what would you do?”  
  
  
Kaneki inquired, his voice coming out far huskier than intended ( _it was hard to look at Koutarou when he was like this, his affection as bright and obvious as the sun_ ).  
  
  
Seemingly without thinking, Koutarou’s eyes flicked down to Kaneki’s mouth.  
  
  
“I would kiss you. You’re so beautiful when you’re happy…”  
  
  
He answered earnestly, the timbre of his words bringing an embarrassed flush to Kaneki’s face. He ducked his head in embarrassment and tried to crush the little flutter of fear in his stomach ( _would this be easier with Hide here?)._ Past the shame and fear though, there was a sputtering font of arousal.  
  
  
Swallowing thickly, Kaneki nodded his head, flashing a thumbs up that looked more confident than he felt. He could see the very end of his fingers shake and he curled them more tightly into his palm.  
  
  
Just as slowly as he’d walked over, Koutarou smoothed a palm over Kaneki’s cheek and tucked his hair behind his ears, whispering,  
  
  
“Your hair has grown so long…”  
  
  
The pad of one finger circled the steel clamp on the shell of Kaneki’s ear and Koutarou smiled a little sadly. Carefully, with barely a whisper of contact, he pressed kisses to Kaneki’s forehead, cheeks, eyelids, and then a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.  
  
  
At first, Kaneki was confused, his heart beating wildly and his hands flexing rhythmically. Then, he felt the prickle of tears in his eyes ( _oh…he had been obvious, hadn’t he?_ ).  
  
  
It was ridiculous that he never expected this consciously. One of the reasons that he felt this way was because Koutarou was safe.  
  
  
“May I?”  
  
  
Kaneki asked, taking hold of Koutarou’s hand that still rested on his cheek. Koutarou smiled at him, just a quirk of his lips, and Kaneki leaned in ( _Koutarou’s hand chasing after him, continuing to cradle his face_ ).  
  
  
He kissed the tips of Koutarou’s ears, murmuring,  
  
  
“I like the way these turn red.”  


The tip of his nose,  
  
  
“I like the way this crinkles when you’re thinking too much.”

   
Nipping at his jaw,  


“I like your conviction,”  
  
  
Kissing his throat ( _exposed and safe_ ),  
  
  
“And the way you express it.”  
  
  
His eyelids,  
  
  
“I like your honesty,”  
  
  
And finally, his mouth,  
  
  
“And I like your heart. **_I trust you_**.”  
  
  
Kaneki finished, resting his forehead against Koutarou’s. He could see how wide his eyes had gone, and Koutarou stayed frozen in slack-jawed surprise for only a second longer. He surged forward, halting just before clicking their teeth together, and pressed his smiling lips against Kaneki’s.  
  
  
In his excitement, he wrapped his arms around Kaneki, rolling them over and boosting him so that his back laid against Koutarou’s chest. His arm flailed awkwardly to the side for awhile, patting around the bed until it collided with Kaneki’s book. Hastily, Koutarou shoved it into his hands, squeaking,  
  
  
“Can we cuddle?”  
  
  
At an absurdly high-pitch ( _it was stupidly endearing_ ).  
  
  
“There’s a party in here that I wasn’t invited to!”  
  
  
A sudden bright voice cut through the moment. Hide bounced into the room, throwing himself onto Koutarou’s chest.  
  
  
“Oof!”  
  
  
All the wind left his lungs and Koutarou wheezed for air. Finally, he wrapped one arm overtop of the legs of both his passengers, placing the other one behind his head. Kaneki started reading aloud, and to Koutarou’s surprise, Hide started playing with his fingers.  
  
  
It should’ve been an interruption, but it didn’t feel like one at all.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
After a spar, Koutarou’s arm wrapped around Kaneki’s waist and Kaneki pulled him down into a passionate kiss ( _the kind he could only ever go for high on adrenalin, Hide thought_ ). The makeout session ( _because that is what it had turned into_ ) went on longer than usual, and Kaneki growled in the back of his throat possessively. It brought a flutter of insecurity to Hide’s heart that was insistent enough for him to try and leave the room.  
  
  
Suddenly, Kaneki’s hand was catching his wrist and Hide was being dragged off to the bathroom for a shower. The last thing he saw of the exercise room before the door swung closed, were Koutarou’s eyes squeezed shut against what was clearly painful arousal.  
  
  
Weird.  
  
  
Kaneki shoved him into the shower and stood in front of him, panting and with a strange look in his eyes.  
  
  
“I have an idea,”  
  
  
He said, grabbing hold of Hide’s shoulders ( _he wanted to grin at the wildness in Kaneki’s movements_ ).  
 

“And there’s only one person I trust with absolutely all of my emotions.”

  
  
~~~~~~

 

“Pfft…haha…Christ…this is all so ridiculous. I haven’t had this much fun in years.”  
  
  
Hide had his face pressed against the floorboards in his room, laying just underneath the sunlamp for the plants. He wanted to go skip down a street or something equally classic Hollywood-esque ( _too bad he was stuck in here_ ).  


It was just…the most Kaneki thing. All the influx of jealousy he’d been feeling lately, gone in an instant and a poorly thought out scheme.  
  
  
Kaneki hated making decisions, but the ones he made on the fly always worked out. Maybe the universe loved him as much as Hide did.  
  
  
Naw, if that was true, there would be a lot more dead people on the globe. Then again, some others would still be alive, so Hide thought it might just balance out.  
  
  
The wood beneath his cheek had warmed up, so Hide rolled over, pressing himself against a new cool spot. He couldn’t believe what they were about to do. It sounded like something he’d come up with, not Kaneki. Maybe they were blending together or something.  
  
  
He would take care of Kaneki’s mind.  
  
  
Koutarou would take of his body.  
  
  
Simple. Elegant, even.  
  
  
Of course, Hide knew he was better than Koutarou since the start. He had the more important job – Kaneki’s mind was sacred. Kaneki loved him best ( _he ignored something in him that was almost disgruntled at the thought and continued his happy rolling session. Whatever conscience he had developed recently could go die for all he cared_ ).

  
  
~~~~~~

 

Kaneki was a flushing mess when, during their scheduled talk time, he asked Koutarou if he would… _give him a hand with something._  
  
  
There was confusion, alternating anger and apologies for not making sense from Kaneki, and then the steady dawning of realization on Koutarou ( _his ears did this nifty trick of turning cherry red before the rest of him could blush_ ).  
  
  
“I…what…uh…”  
  
  
There were two fumbling idiots in the room now, however Hide couldn’t find it in his heart to get exasperated. He huffed fondly, deciding to intervene.  
  
  
“He’s offering to give some sexy stuff a spin. I’m part of the package though – I’ll be in the room for emotional support.”  
  
  
He said, lazily flapping his hand at Koutarou to conceal his nerves. He genuinely wasn’t sure if Koutarou would agree or if this would be the thing that finally pushed him too far. Hide had told Kaneki that Koutarou would say yes, but…  
 

Well, he wasn’t actually sure.  
  
  
Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all. He didn’t really get this stuff too well.  


Koutarou wasn’t responding. It was pretty likely that he’d short-circuited or something. Perhaps they’d finally killed him with their antics.  
  
  
It was all too much for Kaneki, who finally just buried his face in his hands, muttering,  
  
  
“What was I thinking?”  
  
  
Over and over again. That grabbed Koutarou’s attention back from the dead and managed to get him to move. He kneeled in front of Kaneki’s chair, laser-like focus in his eyes as he looked over the embarrassed mess before him.  
  
  
“Are you sure you’re ready for this? We can take this slower, Ken.”  
  
  
He rumbled, an unhappy tilt to his brows and mouth. Hide wondered if he should punch Koutarou, just once, for good measure.  
  
  
**_What kind of person wasn’t even concerned for themselves or what ridiculously socially unacceptable thing they are being asked to do!?_** Was Koutarou some kind of selfless monster ( _no, he’d heard enough stories to know that wasn’t true_ )?  
  
  
Since Kaneki wasn’t replying, Koutarou uncomfortably rambled on, rocking back on his heels and periodically glancing at Hide ( _his eyes screamed ‘help’ but Hide was too interested in how this would play out without assistance_ ).  
  
  
“I…well, I feel a little awkward, but I think I’ve gotten used to the idea of…unconventional things. I’m not sure if I’d be ok with Hide touching me or you…”  
  
  
Koutarou trailed off, lips pinching in dissatisfaction, before going on,  
  
  
“I admit that I feel a bit possessive in that aspect, though I think I’m capable of holding that back. I just wouldn’t be happy about it.”

  
Ohoho, so Koutarou did draw the line somewhere, eh? Hide was beginning to worry that the guy wouldn’t stand up for him own feelings until he just completely snapped. Good to see the cognitive behavioural therapy had achieved something ( _he tried not to consider the fact that he was just happy Koutarou agreed_ ).  
  
  
Jogging across the room, Hide thumped an arm around Kaneki’s shoulders and made an announcement.  
  
  
“Since I’m pretty sure I’m completely asexual, there’s nothing to worry about on that front!”  
  
  
Then, just because he could, he waggled his eyebrows and said,  
  
  
“That is, unless someone asks me to participate.”  
  
  
Koutarou’s own brows flew upwards, though his expression grew inquisitive. Seeing the unconcealed curiousity, Hide just shrugged.  
  
  
“I’ll explain in detail later, but essentially, I’m not attracted to either of you or the idea of sex in general. Doesn’t seem to be my thing, y’know?”  
  
  
He flippantly said, patting Koutarou on the back with his free hand.  
  
  
“I just agreed to be naked in front of you.”  
  
  
Koutarou blurted, realization beginning to fully set in to what he had signed up for.  
  
  
“Nearly naked? Sexually compromised?”  
  
  
Hide grinned at him, all teeth and bad intentions, and Koutarou frowned at him.  
  
  
“No photos. No mental pictures. I see what you’re thinking Nagachika and you will not tell anyone about this.”  
  
  
Koutarou sternly reprimanded him, flicking his hand away from his back. The sudden name change ( _would Koutarou ever acknowledge it? Had he even noticed?)_ brought out Hide’s serious side.  
  
  
“’Neki wouldn’t like that, anyway.”  
  
  
He responded, making sure to meet Koutarou’s gaze squarely. Clearly, the idea of being watched right now ( _and later_ ) was making Koutarou incredibly nervous. There was conflict warring in his body language ( _shoulders tensing, hands reaching out, a dry swallow, and a shiver down his spine_ ). Hide could almost read his mind:  
  
  
_It’s a big step.  
  
  
Too big?  
  
  
Everything else seemed so small in comparison._

  
And so on. Really, him and Kaneki were far too alike sometimes.  
  
  
“Shouldn’t we do…I don’t know, something smaller first?”  
  
  
Koutarou weakly asked. Hide rolled his eyes, muttering,  
  
  
“Go ham. Make out or whatever. I’ll hold his hand.”  
  
  
Kaneki’s head finally emerged from behind his knees. His eyes were wide and terrified ( _Hide briefly wondered if he’d eat his words_ ). Silently, Kaneki gripped his hands, stuffing the fear down as far as he could make it go.  
  
  
“C’mon. I’m fine.”  
  
  
He said, staring at Koutarou.  
  
  
“Are you fine?”  
  
  
Kaneki asked, taking in how pale Koutarou’s face had gone. Stiffly, Koutarou nodded, coughing into his hand uncertainly.  
  
  
“Well…uh…here I go?”  
  
  
ie _. ‘What the fuck has my life become?’  
  
_

Hide let his gaze bore a hole in the back of Koutarou’s head, testing how uncomfortable things could really get, as Koutarou settled himself between Kaneki’s knees. He delicately tilted Kaneki’s chin downwards, and pressed forward, forming a kiss that was long and slow.  


Eventually, he seemed to forget that Hide was there ( _probably because of how responsive Kaneki was being, all the while gripping Hide’s hand hard enough to shift his bones_ ). His gigantic hands tangled in Kaneki’s hair and he actually **_sighed in relief._**  
  
  
Huh…maybe Kaneki wasn’t the only one who needed emotional support? Hide would have to look into that.  
  
  
After the sigh, Koutarou pretty much plastered himself all over Kaneki in a way Hide had never seen him do before ( _no breathing room between them, all sweet and protective_ ). It was like he was less restrained, or more confident in his actions, and though Kaneki’s hands shook, he sounded happy. Oddly, Hide found himself smiling.  
  
  
That was probably really creepy of him ( _oh well_ ).

  
  
~~~~~~

 

Despite Kaneki and Hide’s insistence, Amon refused to be too sexual with Kaneki until he was sure neither of them would freak out. Kaneki was definitely calmer with Hide’s hand in his and Amon felt less pressured to be careful, but he couldn’t be sure it would be like that every time.  
  
  
If Hide shark-smiled at him even once during something like that, Amon was pretty sure he’d scream. He hadn’t really gotten over his fear of that.  
  
  
Also, if he was being honest, it was still incredibly awkward to know someone was so close to him just…watching. Watching and smiling like a proud parent. It would take some getting used to, to say the least ( _note to self: never make another proud parent analogy…ick_ ).  
  
  
So they kept trying it, pushing the limits past the simple, short, and emotional kisses Amon was used to. Sometimes it didn’t work out. Though Kaneki would pretend everything was fine, his breath would catch in a nasty way that made Amon’s body seize up ( _apologies playing on loop inside of his head and his arousal dying instantly_ ).  
  
  
“It’s ok, don’t worry about it.”  
  
  
He’d whisper into Kaneki’s hair countless times ( _trying to comfort himself just as much as Kaneki_ ).  
  
  
To be honest, in those moments he was grateful for Hide’s steady unaffected presence. It gave him a weird sense of reassurance, both that Kaneki would be taken care of, and that Hide wouldn’t feel…left out ( _like he had a place in **their** bed, **their** hearts, or both_ ).  
  
  
Which was gross of him, maybe? He wasn’t too sure. It felt a little gross to think of Hide as a friend, especially after he’d stopped distancing himself by calling him ‘Nagachika’ ( _Hide hadn’t noticed yet, but Amon was sure he’d catch on eventually_ ). It was also probably strange of him to not want Hide to feel left out of sexual activities.  
  
  
All in all, things felt less…facilitated eventually. He had never felt more certain that Kaneki did desire him ( _glazed eyes, an open mouth, his name sounding like sin and silk_ ). He was also completely certain that Hide had no sexual inclinations after Kaneki had moaned in a way that made Amon have to excuse himself and **_Hide didn’t even blink.  
  
_**  
Amon had wondered what it was like to feel like that. However when he had asked, Hide had laughed.  
  
  
“What’s it like to have a crush on a guy instead of a girl? Can’t answer, can you?”  
  
  
Hide had said, chuckling, and Amon had felt mortification curl up inside of him.  
  
  
“It’s fine. You just can’t describe the absence of something you’ve never felt, y’know?”  
  
  
Hide had patted him on the shoulder comfortingly ( _it was so odd that just that pat could make him feel better_ ).  
  
  
Now…  
  
  
Now they were in Amon’s room, Kaneki plastered against his chest and Amon’s breath coming heavy and fast ( _his head was spinning_ ), and Hide was humming to himself quietly. Kaneki’s hands were everywhere and Amon could feel some of the last threads of his restraint snapping. He’d have to pull back soon, catch his breath, clear his head…  
  
  
Kaneki bit Amon’s lip and then shifted, settling his forehead against Amon’s heaving chest. His voice was raw and low when he whispered,  
  
  
**_“Please.”  
_**  
  
And Amon realized that enough was enough ( _Kaneki’s hips rocking on his lap, his nails running lines over ribs, and he couldn’t take the temptation_ ).  
  
  
In an awkward movement that resulted in him nearly dropping Kaneki ( _startling a breathy laugh from his passenger and a snort from Hide_ ), Amon scooped up Kaneki and strode over to the door. His brain still wasn’t quite up to speed ( _and Kaneki looked wrecked_ ), but luckily Hide was still Hide.  
  
  
“Take him to my room.”  
  
  
Hide instructed him, pulling open the door and leading the way, one hand still firmly interlocked with Kaneki’s. Amon had been agonizing over where to do this ( _if they were going to do this_ ) forever. He didn’t want it to be in his territory ( _he wanted Kaneki to have the power_ ), however he also refused to tie any potential bad memories to Kaneki’s safe space.  
  
  
Hide was a lifesaver ( _metaphorically and literally_ ).  
  
  
Just like that, Amon grabbed onto Hide’s hand as well. He was grateful, his skin was oversensitive, and suddenly he craved more contact than he already had ( _that was all_ ). Hide’s arm jerked in surprise, but Amon could’ve sworn he heard a chortle ( _it could’ve been from Kaneki, though. It was getting hard to tell some of their laughs apart_ ).  
  
  
He wasn’t 100% sure when trusting Hide became a thing he’d do on a regular basis, but it was.  
  
  
Kaneki, from his place in Amon’s arms, was fluttering his lips over Amon’s jaw and neckline ( _he was shaking_ ). Stepping into the room, Amon bent his neck and pressed his lips against Kaneki’s forehead, mumbling into the skin,  
  
  
“It’s ok, Ken. It’s ok. I won’t hurt you.”  
  
  
Amon extracted his hand from Hide’s ( _his anxiety spiking_ ) and gently placed Kaneki on the bed. He knelt in front of him, ignoring the chair Hide pulled up ( _Hide shrugged and took it for himself, settling his free hand onto Amon’s quivering shoulders_ ).  
  
  
One long exhale later, and Amon was tipping his chin onto Kaneki’s knees, gazing up at him in the least threatening way he could.  
  
  
**_“What do you want me to do?”_**  
  
  
He earnestly asked. He’d been candid about his lack of experience ( _over the soundtrack of Hide’s disbelieving laughter_ ) and was willing to move exclusively at Kaneki’s pace ( _self-control intact once again_ ). Kaneki was the one who knew what he was doing and what he wanted ( _though his experience was solely with women and only barely above Amon’s leve_ l).  
  
  
A blush blossomed over Kaneki’s skin and he bit his lip hard enough to turn it white. His gaze flicked over Amon’s face, down to his collarbone, and over his hands in his lap. It gave Amon butterflies and they were threatening to drown him ( _he barely resisted the impulse to twitch_ ).  
  
  
Chuckling drew Kaneki’s attention away from him and Hide squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.  
  
  
“I’ll be right over here.”  
  
  
He announced, patting the desk chair he’d wheeled over. He grinned and extended his hands ( _one still linked with Kaneki’s_ ), showing that he was within reaching distance.  
  
  
“I won’t be going anywhere.”  
  
  
Hide promised, some sobriety creeping into the sunny expression he wore. Kaneki swallowed and nodded, making Hide tear up a little (those two…) and whisper,  
  
  
“I love you, y’know?”  
  
  
Kaneki nodded again, much more firmly this time, and returned his attention to Amon.  
  
  
“Can you let me take the lead? Once we start, you can just ask before you do something and I’ll tell you yes or no.”  
  
  
He asked, shifting his gaze from side to side, searching for any evidence of disagreement or unhappiness in Amon’s body language. Amon swallowed thickly (t _his was actually happening...he actually trusted him enough...God..._ ) and squeezed his eyes shut, murmuring a hoarse,  
  
  
“Alright.”  
  
  
He left his eyes shut as Kaneki twined the fingers of one hand ( _long, slender things_ ) into Amon’s hair.  
  
  
“Lay down on the bed. It’s gonna be hard to move around with just one hand.”  
  
  
Kaneki requested, bringing Amon back from the edge of the emotional precipice he’d been dangling on ( _he had nearly cried a second ago, hadn’t he? Once, Akira had joked that he would be the kind of man to cry during sex. Who knew that she’d be right?_ ).  


He opened his eyes, crawling onto the bed and laying back, letting Kaneki climb on top of him ( _he was so tiny…he also looked a little funny with one arm sticking out_ ).  
  
  
“Hide, move a little closer, I can’t really-“  
  
  
Kaneki called out, tugging Hide’s arm ( _the chair wheeled forwards from the force_ ).  
  
  
“You can let go and just grab on again, ‘Neki.”  
  
  
Hide responded, not looking up from the comic he’d cracked open in his lab. Amon glanced up at Kaneki, seeing the signs of embarrassment in his face as he mumbled,  
  
  
“Right, of course. Should’ve thought of that.”  
  
  
That embarrassment still burned at Kaneki’s ears, but he seemingly tucked it away to get back to work. Amon smiled fondly at him, kissing one pink ear as Kaneki began to nip as his neck.  
  
  
“You’re so-”  
  
  
Amon said into Kaneki’s ear, his breath hitching when Kaneki’s tongue darted out from between his lips to lap at his jugular,  
  
  
“Cute.”  
  
  
Kaneki made a disgruntled noise at that, kisses becoming less playful ( _each was now accompanied by the graze of teeth. It stirred a memory for Amon that was surprisingly arousing_ ). Amon fought to remain still when one of Kaneki’s chilly hands slid underneath the hem of his shirt, over his chest ( _tweaking a nipple and making him gasp_ ), and onto his shoulder.  
  
  
He couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t the only one with **_that particular memory_** when Kaneki’s nails dug into the bite scar on his shoulder. The burning dull pain sent a liquid jolt straight to Amon’s cock ( _he tried not to think of the implications of that_ ). Kaneki’s left eye filled in with black and red for just a second ( _yep, he definitely remembered_ ).  
  
  
“This,”  
  
  
Kaneki said, wrapping his fingers around Amon’s shirt collar,  
  
  
“Is coming off.”  
  
  
( _That sounded like an excellent idea_ ) Amon sat up and let Kaneki tug his shirt over his head, shivering when his overheated skin was exposed to fresh air. Kaneki pushed him back down into his previous position, now straddling his abdomen ( _so close, too close, Amon's brain was giving up on him_ ).  
  
  
Against his will, Amon’s hips bucked forward and his head tossed back. It made Kaneki hesitate before moving his mouth onto Amon’s.  
  
  
An embarrassing whine rose in Amon’s throat when Kaneki’s tongue ran over the roof of his mouth in little circles ( _his pants were tight enough to be causing him pain_ ). His hips didn’t buck this time ( _because every muscle in his body was completely wrapped tight_ ), and Kaneki pushed down harder on his stomach ( _pinning him there shiiiiiiiiiiit_ ).  
  
  
It took him a second to open his eyes after Kaneki pulled away from the kiss ( _when had he closed them_ ) and focus. His lover ( _God, he really was_ ) was smiling at him, something genuine and soft ( _don't cry, Amon, don't cry_ ), while grinding his hips down against Amon’s skin. Amon’s torso jerked and his mouth fell open around a silent prayer ( _give me strength against this temptation_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki’s smile flickered a little, and Amon cursed his little prayer. He breathed out harshly, pushing himself up with his arms to lean his sweaty forehead against Kaneki’s chest.  
  
  
“I’ve got you. Don’t worry about me.”

   
He promised, looking up to meet Kaneki’s grey searching gaze. His hands were clenching at Amon’s shoulders and he quickly glanced over to Hide, who turned and nodded firmly ( _bless his soul_ ).

  
“Touch me, then.”  
  
  
Kaneki growled, wiping the vulnerability away like it had never been there ( _Amon knew better by now, though_ ). He tugged Amon forward, causing him resettle Kaneki into his lap.  
  
  
Nervously, overly aware of how close to the edge he was himself, Amon ran his hands lightly over Kaneki’s clothed form. His callouses rubbed harshly over the sensitive skin of Kaneki’s neck and inner arms, drawing a pleased ( _but impatient_ ) hum. There was something Amon had been wanting to do…but…  
  
  
His eyes flicked to the desk chair and its occupant. Without even facing him, Hide flashed a thumbs up ( _that was creepy. Comforting, but creepy_ ).  
  
  
“Can I…”  
  
  
Amon’s voice trailed off, a pitch too high as he placed his hands onto Kaneki’s hips ( _he loved the way the flat plains of them fit so snugly into his palms_ ) and beginning a rough massage.  
  
  
“Ahem,”  
  
  
He cleared his throat, hoping it would drop back to his normal tone ( _Kaneki seemed to like it, and God, he wanted him to like this request_ ).  


“Can I...get you off?”  
  
  
His voice was hoarse and his tone was nervous, however it got his point across.  
  
  
Kaneki frowned at him, just a little furrow between his brows ( _he wanted to brush his lips against it and smooth it away. He wanted so many things at once right now_ ).  
  
  
“What’s the point if you aren’t getting anything out of it?”  
  
  
Kaneki asked, a single finger trailing over each muscle in Amon’s stomach ( _causing them to twitch, one by one_ ). A wave of heavy mortification made Amon avert his eyes as he began to attempt an explanation, his mouth opening and shutting silently ( _'well, you're more arousing to me than actually doing anything. I'm pretty sure if you said my name enough times I'd cum. You have no concept of how in love with you I am, do you? Just being able to touch you right now is practically a miracle.'_ ).  
  
  
Finally, Hide chuckled and sing-songed,  
  
  
“He **_is_** getting something out of it, buddy. I don’t have to get this kinda stuff to see that.”  
  
  
Kaneki’s eyebrows lifted in comprehension and a shy little grin spread over his face.  
  
  
“Yes.”  
  
  
He said, affectionately kissing Amon on the cheek ( _hesitating for just a second before making contact_ ),  
  
  
“I’d like that.”

Amon drew in a shuddering breath, exhaling his nervous embarrassment, and wrapped Kaneki up in his embrace ( _he made a startled sound, but didn’t tense up_ ). He twisted their position a little bit, reorienting Kaneki so Hide could see his face if he had to. Amon wanted to be…ahem…  
  
  
Completely focused for this.  
  
  
Once he was happy with the way they were sitting, he began rubbing slow circles in Kaneki’s tight thighs and hips. His thumbs would brush over his pants in a gentle carress before his palms would roll over the area with as much pressure as he could muster. He took his time with it, enjoying the little pleased noises he was on the receiving end of.  
  
  
Soon, Kaneki’s muscles loosened up and the pleased sounds grew demanding ( _Kaneki’s fingers were tracing little patterns on his shoulder blades. He couldn’t tell if the sensation was more distracting or the fact that Kaneki had let go of Hide’s hand_ ). Grinning to himself, positive that he could get this part right, Amon nuzzled into Kaneki’s neck and flicked the button of his pants open while tugging down his fly.  
  
  
He pulled away from Kaneki’s warm, sweetly-scented ( _so much vanilla and chamomile…it was absolutely heady_ ) skin just long enough to search his face for permission. Kaneki looked nervous again, however he cradled Amon’s face in his hands and pressed a kiss to his mouth, whispering,  
  
  
**_“Yes.”_**  
  
  
Permission given, Amon tilted Kaneki onto the bed, tugging off his pants as he went. He nuzzled against Kaneki’s inner thigh, scraping his teeth against the firm muscle and watching Kaneki shudder with hazy eyes.  
  
  
“God, you’re so beautiful.”  
  
  
He murmured reverently, nipping harder at Kaneki’s smooth skin. Kaneki chuckled, breathless but rich, and answered,  
  
  
“That doesn’t make me feel very manly.”  
  
  
Dragging his tongue up from behind Kaneki’s knee ( _a sharp intake of breath_ ) to his hips ( _a whisper of “Koutarou”),_ Amon barely held back a snort.  
  
  
“I only find men beautiful.”  
  
  
He retorted, eyes glittering with mirth when Kaneki threw back his head with genuine laughter ( _it wasn't a joke he could've made a year ago_ ). Taking advantage of the unguarded moment, he peered at Kaneki’s erection curiously. It strained against his black boxers and twitched even as Kaneki continued chortling.  
  
  
Amon licked his lips and reached around Kaneki’s hips to anchor him.  


“Lie down.”  
  
  
He urged him, just as Kaneki’s laughter was dying down. Kaneki complied and Amon settled himself between his legs. There was a flicker of uncertainty lurking in the twist of Kaneki’s mouth. It nearly overcame Amon with the urge to say ‘I love you’ ( _wouldn’t that just make him more anxious, though? Don’t say it_ ). Instead, his traitorous mouth formed the words,  
  
  
“So beautiful. I can’t believe you’re letting me touch you, my Madonna.”  
  
  
In Russian ( _a language he never spoke intentionally_ ). Kaneki’s expression shifted, a lazy grin curling up his face and his lips parting in arousal.  
  
  
“Koutarou,”  
  
  
He murmured, squeezing his thighs once around his head and shoulders,  
  
  
“Get a move on.”  
  
  
Sass still alive and kicking, no matter the situation. Instead of being funny, it made Amon’s stomach clench and the tips of his fingers tingled.  
  
  
**_“How do you want me to do this?”_**  
  
  
Amon asked, his voice going deep with the brunt of his desire returning. It was a fair question – he didn’t know if he should use his hands or his -  
  
  
“Your mouth.”  
  
  
Kaneki groaned, the sound sinful and suddenly too hot and heavy for Amon to listen to.  
  
  
“With your mouth.”  
  
  
Kaneki urged him, his hips pushing up on the bed. Amon had permission to push a little.  
  
  
**_“Whatever you’d like.”_**  
  
  
He growled, tugging Kaneki forward by the hips and using one hand to peel his underwear off of his skin ( _he could push a little, just a little_ ). Once Kaneki’s cock was free, Amon considered it for a moment, wondering if he was supposed to do things in some kind of order or if he should do whatever he wanted. The disgruntled,  
  
  
“C’mon.”  
  
  
From above him convinced him to do whatever he wanted.  
  
  
He planted a kiss by the base ( _admiring the fact that Kaneki’s hair really was white all over his body_ ), before licking a stripe up and along a major vein ( _once, twice, enough times to get it wet and make Kaneki’s breathing stop_ ).  
  
  
He adjusted his grip around Kaneki’s ass, rolling the muscle in his hands, and wrapped his tongue around the head of his dick. He let his tongue curl and uncurl, wondering if he could do the same things with it that he could with his hands when he masturbated.  
  
  
Answer: yes, yes he could.  
  
  
Maybe it was because Kaneki was part ghoul or maybe Amon was a giant pervert, but he found himself enjoying the taste of precum. The movement of his head was clumsy and he was pretty sure drool was running down his chin, however everything about having Kaneki’s erection in his mouth was deliciously hazy.  
  
  
At some point, he’d freed one of his hands from beneath Kaneki’s squirming body and ghosted it around the base of his cock, his thumb carefully running over his balls. Kaneki’s entire body jolted and, with a cry of,  
  
  
“Koutarou, fffffuck!”  
  
  
And he wrapped himself around Amon’s head and shoulders, breathing hard. It bent Amon’s neck uncomfortably, however in his haze he didn’t want to stop ( _every noise Kaneki made sent another pulse to his dick and he already felt like he was burning up_ ). Deciding to roll with the position change, Amon flipped them both one-handed, making it so he was half-sitting up, half-supporting Kaneki’s weight, keeping Kaneki’s cock buried further in his throat than he’d really like.  
  
  
Kaneki’s hips jerked forwards and Amon coughed uncontrollably.  
  
  
“Careful not to choke him, ‘Neki.”  
  
  
Hide chided. Amon wondered how the Hell it was possible to feel eternally grateful to Hideyoshi Nagachika while simultaneously drowning in lust at Kaneki’s,  
  
  
“Eat shit, Hide.”  
  
  
And  
  
  
“Oh, fuck, yessssssss.”  
  
  
Distantly, Amon knew that his jaw hurt and his back was going to start screaming soon from this new position, however all he could focus on was the endless mantra playing into his ears.  
  
  
“Hnnn- there, right there, **_please_**   ** _Koutarou_**.”  
  
  
He was losing himself in the haze of being so hot all over, Kaneki’s bare skin touching his, the smell of his sweat, the cries of his name, demands for more, and God, tasting him. Kaneki’s nails were scrabbling at his back, chest, shoulders, and arms and when he sucked hard, they dug in deep enough to draw blood.  
  
  
With a pop, Amon pulled off of Kaneki, leaning his flushed cheeks against Kaneki’s pelvis and peppering kisses at the very end of his abdomen. He stared up at Kaneki with glazed eyes, feeling the heat of his erection next to his throat, and waited for some kind of signal.  
  
  
“Oh fuck, ** _again_**. Do that again.”  
  
  
Kaneki panted, tangling his hands in Amon’s hair and dragging him back down to his dick. Amon went glady, sliding his tongue over the head as he met Kaneki’s heated gaze. A moan ripped straight out of his chest, reverberating through his whole body, at the exact same time Kaneki moaned his name.  
  
  
**_Amon wondered how many people had cum from giving blowjobs before.  
_**  
  
He couldn’t take Kaneki’s cock all the way down and it was beginning to frustrate him ( _he wanted more: to hear more, taste more, feel more_ ). He twisted his arm, distributing Kaneki’s weight heavily onto the other ( _his muscles bulging and straining_ ), and wrapped his fingers and thumb firmly around the base and balls, rolling them as he gave a hard suck.  
  
  
Kaneki made strangled sound and his thighs squeezed around Amon’s head. Hide whistled at the show of strength.

Lost in the rhythm of his actions, Amon didn’t feel it at first when Kaneki suddenly started tugging on his hair. He blinked slowly, wondering if he did something wrong past the fog in his mind and the salt on his tongue. He settled Kaneki back into his lap, moving his mouth away from where it would rather be, and looked at Kaneki inquisitively.  
  
  
He pulled abruptly into a searing kiss, all teeth and tongue, that seemed to excite Kaneki even more than getting sucked off. When he released Amon for breath, his kakugan had completely activated ( _from the taste of himself on Amon’s tongue? Shit, that was hot_ ).  
  
  
“Have I ever mentioned,”  
  
  
Kaneki rasped, wrapping his hand around himself,  
  
  
“How sexy that strength of your is? Because I should. I should do that frequently.”  
  
  
He grinned at Amon, who grinned back, up until he saw Kaneki’s smile falter slightly. Kaneki reached up shakily, brushing his finger beneath his own eye.  
  
  
Amon jolted forward, nearly tipping Kaneki out of his lap, and pressed his lips to the area right next to the kakugan. Kaneki, surprised, twitched forward and knocked his cheekbone into Amon’s nose with a crack.  
  
  
Sputtering indignantly, Amon cradled his nose ( _his eyes were watering_ ). They both laughed sheepishly, whispering,  
  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
  
In unison.  
  
  
“I love the way you look.”  
  
  
Amon said, his voice thick with emotion. He slid his hand downwards, replacing Kaneki’s hand around his dick and pumping once.  
  
  
“And the way you feel.”  
  
  
He continued, maintaining eye contact as he tilted Kaneki into their old position, placing himself back between his thighs.  
  
  
“And the way you sound.”  
  
  
He sighed, running his hand over all the skin Kaneki trusted him with ( _that he **wanted** him to touch_ ).  
  
  
“And…”  
  
  
He pressed his tongue flatly over the head, pulling up a string of precum ( _Kaneki was close_ ),  
  
  
“The way you taste.”  
  
  
He whispered, swallowing. Kaneki barely managed to choke out,  
  
  
“I never thought you’d be a tease.”  
  
  
Around a full-throated groan. Amon smiled, sinking back into the mindframe of lust intermingling with love and murmuring,  
  
  
“I’m not. I can’t resist you long enough to tease you.”  
  
  
He finally figured out a rhythm that had Kaneki’s pulse hammering in his ears and nonsense spilling from his lips. He glanced up from time to time, pleasuring himself with the lust in Kaneki’s eyes. That, and **_the trust_** , the fact that he was letting him do this…  
  
  
**_It turned him on like mad.  
_**  
  
He had to pause a few times, pulling off and whispering sweet-nothings in Russian into Kaneki’s thighs before he lost control ( _the words aren’t translatable but Kaneki shivered and moaned along with each one of them_ ).  
  
He couldn't hold out much longer and undid his pants, relieving some of the pressure ( _his balls were tightening and everything was suddenly so sharp and clear and too much-).  
_  
  
“Koutarou! Yes, Koutarou!”  
  
  
Kaneki gasped and fuck his voice was sweet and euphoric and-  
  
  
“Ken…oh God, Ken…”  
  
  
Amon practically purred, Kaneki’s erection still in his mouth, the taste on his tongue, the sensations hot and liquid...  
  
  
He came untouched ( _his eyes fell shut in pleasure and all he could hear was static_ ).  
  
  
The vibrations of his voice made Kaneki’s entire frame shudder and, one long and sated lick later, Kaneki came down Amon’s throat and across his cheek.  
  
  
Curiously and contentedly ( _he’d never orgasmed in such a satisfying way…he’d never held off so long before_ ), Amon wiped at the cum smeared along his cheek. Kaneki stared at him hazily, still lost somewhere between cumming and coming down, and nudged at his hand. A last thick wave of desire ( _like the aftershocks of overstimulation_ ) bled through Amon’s body when he realized what Kaneki wanted.  
  
  
He lifted his hand and licked it clean ( _Kaneki sighed, a sound so delighted and warm that Amon felt the bizarre temptation to propose, his mouth opening around the words before he snapped it shut. Wrong time, wrong place_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki’s gaze wandered down his body, anxiety warring with want, clearly wondering if he was supposed to ‘return the favour’. His eyes widened when he saw Amon’s open pants and the wet stain against the argyle print of his underwear.  
  
  
“Told you he was getting something out of it.”  
  
  
Hide teased, his voice bringing Amon back to reality. Amon chuckled, setting Kaneki down ( _his bones creaked and he knew they’d hurt tomorrow_ ). He used his clean hand to sweep Kaneki’s sweat-soaked bangs out of his face and toyed with his earring, the love that he felt probably shining like a beacon from his expression.  
  
  
“That was wonderful.”  
  
  
He whispered, bumping his nose against Kaneki’s.  
  
  
“How are you?”

  
  
-POV Change-

 

The question, tender in tone and thick with implications, was like a slap in the face for Kaneki. It brought a realization, a long time coming, to the forefront of his mind.  
  
  
_Oh God, Kaneki was in love with Koutarou. **He was in love with him.**_

 **_  
_ ** Trying to calm down and ground himself, Kaneki pulled up his boxers, scrambling for an answer to that question.

  
“I’m good. This was good. I’m just-“  
  
  
He babbled, the euphoria crashing down around his ears.  
  
  
The thoughts of,  
  
_  
Are we going to be ok?  
  
  
Is this ok?  
_  
  
Suddenly had so much more weight to them and oh shit, for fucks sake, he was crying. He was crying and he wasn’t supposed to cry because this was good-  
  
  
“You didn’t do anything wrong!”  
  
  
He blurted, trying to stem the tide and swiping at his face,  
  
  
“This was really good, I’m not lying. I’m just…it’s just…”  
  
  
His mangled explanation fell away when Koutarou opened his arms. Kaneki threw himself into the hug, oversensitivity washing over him and being blunted by the all too familiar smell and feel of Koutarou, Koutarou, Koutarou.  
  
  
“Hide!”  
  
  
He called out, suddenly desperate for his soul-mate, his blood brother, the person who made him most complete. He felt like if he didn’t grab hold of him in this moment, he’d lose him ( _or lose himself_ ).  
  
  
Hide was on the bed in a flash, sweat and sperm be damned.  
  
  
“It’s ok, ‘Neki. We understand. It’s ok.”  
  
  
Hide murmured, gripping onto Kaneki’s hands and embracing Koutarou from behind, letting him form a wall between Kaneki and the world as Hide anchored him.  
  
  
“Deep breaths, alright? It’s all over now. You’re safe, you did well, and we’re proud of you.”  
  
  
He’d gone from feeling the most powerful he ever had outside of battle to feeling like a child in mere seconds. The crash was overwhelming despite Hide’s whispered words. He cried into Koutarou’s neck and crushed Hide’s hands in a death grip.  
  
  
Eventually, Hide’s instructions and platitudes filtered through his sobs. His breath was hitching – Hide was crying too. Koutarou’s chest rose and fell unevenly.  
  
  
“I’m crying because I’m proud of you, ‘Neki.”  
  
  
Hide swore, his hands gripping Kaneki’s back tightly.  
  
  
“And I think he’s just crying because you’re crying.”  
  
  
A wet laugh left Koutarou’s mouth and Kaneki pressed himself further into his embrace.  
  
  
He wasn’t sure how long it went on, them rocking him gently on the bed, telling him that he was going to be alright, but at some point them wound up in the shower together. Hide gave him his pajamas and Koutarou carried him to his room ( _he was to overwrought to protest_ ). They piled into his bed, massaging his feet and shoulders, talking to him until he calmed down enough to ask them to stay.  
  
  
They slept together that night, both of them wrapped around Kaneki in a protective cocoon. Koutarou and Hide were holding hands ( _Kaneki could sense the unspoken ‘what if we aren’t enough?’ and ‘we’re going to have to be’_ ) and it brought him comfort. They were there for each other, even when he couldn’t be.  
  
  
They were there.  
  
  
**_They were staying._**  
  
  
He drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's only three arcs left (Shower, Sun, and Tree). I can't believe that we've finally reached this point in the story a year and a bit down the line. It's been such a long journey. I can't post a specific chapter count, but it looks like there'll be about 7-9 more.
> 
> Anyway, tomorrow is my BIG EXAM so this won't get super edited until Wednesday. Feel free to point out any errors and tell me if I am totally incapable of writing smutty stuff.


	32. Shower (Part 1/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaneki finally feels like he can wash the dirt away. He won’t wash away with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I returned to my parent's house for the holidays to a terrible surprise: the internet here doesn't work properly. Luckily for me, the local library has free WiFi and so I can finally make a post. Thank you all so much for your comments (SO MANY) on the last chapter - I wasn't ignoring you, I just had no WiFi! I'm really touched that everyone had such wonderful things to say and it honestly makes me a little sad that this will all be over soon. I love you all!!!

It was raining outside. There was no way to tell that raindrops were slamming into the building ( _not with Hide’s human senses_ ), but his many forays outside had taught him a few things.  
  
  
Whenever a storm was brewing, Kaneki would wake up early and stare blankly into his morning coffee, absently toying with his own hair like something was bothering him. It would pass quickly and without notice every time. For that, Hide was thankful. He wouldn’t want Kaneki to realize the connection he still had to the outside world.  
  
  
At least, he wouldn’t have wanted that in the beginning. It had been 2 months though…did anyone else realize it? 2 months spent in isolation. Hide knew it was time, but he wanted the others to decide for themselves when enough was enough.  
  
  
It had been a silent thing, the violation of the rules they’d set…  
  
  
They weren’t sitting like they used to – they were now in the dining room and no one sat in the position of leader ( _centered, facing everyone else, commanding attention_ ) or separated from one another ( _they all jammed themselves into closely packed chairs, always within reach_ ). There were other signs too, like the fleeting glances Koutarou shot at the door, however Hide wanted them to **_say it._**  
  
  
**_He needed them to._ **  
  
  
The beautiful thing about whatever Hide needed, he knew Kaneki could ( _would_ ) provide. He was the person they were here for. He was the one who could say what nobody else could. And bless his shrivelled little heart ( _because he was mean and made Hide stew for at least two days before doing this_ ), Kaneki did it in the perfect way.  
  
  
“I have never felt more in control of my own fate than I do now. It feels good – like I’m stronger than before.”  
  
  
Kaneki said, sneakily using his storyteller voice ( _dropping the pitch, slowing the words, and capturing Hide’s unwavering attention_ ) to get his point across. Kaneki leaned in, splaying his hands over his chest ( _he’d always had a dramatic side, understated though it may be_ ),  
  
  
“I am healthy, I am happy, and I need to know what happens next.”  
  
  
Hide knew that Koutarou had been waiting for this moment, perhaps for as long as he had been, but the statement still rocked them both. It was good to see Kaneki being firm, being confident, however they had seen him raw and emotional too many times to trust those statements completely.  
  
  
God, what he would do for more time ( _to stay forever_ ). What he would do for this all to be over ( _to have never even happened_ ). It was too late anyways. He’d let it get out of hand ( _out of **his** hands_ ) and the power to stop moving forwards was already gone.  
  
  
Seeing the conflict in their eyes ( _because of course he did, because Hide knew Kaneki felt the same way_ ), Kaneki secured his brave face and kept talking,  
  
  
“I’m bringing this up because I have plans. Though it might be selfish,”  
  
  
Kaneki clearly suppressed a wince and Koutarou’s fingers twitched ( _it reminded Hide of the beginning. In those first days, Koutarou’s fingers always twitched when he wanted to hold Kaneki and his feet twitched when he wanted to carry him away_ ),  
  
  
“I want you both to be involved in those plans.”  
  
  
Even after being told so many things ( _“I love you”, “I need you”, “We’re soulmates, right?”_ ), it still made Hide’s throat go dry and his heart race when Kaneki implied he **_wasn’t leaving_**. When Kaneki smiled and it wasn’t melancholy, when it wasn’t an **_apology_** or a **_goodbye_** , it still felt like a miracle.  
  
  
That probably wasn’t a good thing, though Hide was willing to take it at face value.  
  
  
“Kanou…I sent that file to the CCG. All the information I had on him, all the predictions I could make about his movements, about Aogiri, and every scrap that could hold up in court well enough to jail him for life was in there. I gave it to Banjou and his crew. I have faith it was delivered.”  
  
  
Kaneki stated, hard confidence remaining in his voice even as the storyteller façade faded away ( _Kaneki’s shoulders drooped and his mouth twisted with distaste_ ). There was the honesty he’d come to expect: the exhaustion Kaneki felt upon facing the future and the doubts he still held.  
  
  
“There are things I haven’t been able to tell you,”  
  
  
Kaneki exhaled a sigh, giving Hide a crooked grin and lifting his hands into air quotes,  
  
  
“Because of ‘the rules’,”  
  
  
Hide chuckled dryly, waving Kaneki onwards.  
  
  
“I’ve gathered some contacts. They aren’t necessarily people you can trust, but…well, one of them, he’s just a teenager and he’s done some unsavoury things in the past, but he’s not in the habit of lying. His information is always good. I sent him and his friends to look into the events leading up to my surgery. They’re also tracking Aogiri’s movements, though they have to lay low to avoid suspicion.”  
  
  
Kaneki paused, looking embarrassed all of a sudden. His gaze flitted over to Koutarou and his hand brushed delicately against his chin before he wrenched it away, frowning before continuing,  
  
  
“The CCG has good reason to be looking for them. There’s an inspector who’s obsessed with this little crew, so they might not have been able to get much done. Too busy hiding.”  
  
  
There, his stare slid over to Hide instead ( _chewing his lip nervously_ ). Flashing him a thumbs up, Hide grinned proudly. He could tell that Kaneki had chosen to be honest despite the way he had moved.  
  
  
“Anyway, they’ll hopefully be able to catch me… ** _us_** …up with the general situation out there. Everyone at Anteiku can tell me the rest. I need to speak with Yoshimura, if he hasn’t already been taken away,”  
  
  
When Kaneki’s finger cracked nobody stopped him.  
  
  
“And I need to make sure Yomo is still taking care of Rize. After all of that is said and done, I’d like to figure out what Aogiri’s end goals are. The One-Eyed King is simply a ruse – their leader… we’ve killed a general and there was infighting amongst the others when I was last there. The grunts don’t seem to want the same thing their commanders do.”  
  
  
That was troubling to Hide ( _as was that omission_ ). All the stories he’d heard about Aogiri ( _from Kaneki or when he was looking for him_ ) felt like a puzzle missing a piece. The motivations of Aogiri’s leader weren’t something he understood either ( _which likely meant something really shitty for his future_ ). Hide’s foot began bouncing, his mind running over the problem, before a look from Koutarou stopped him short.  
  
  
They were discussing the future, but it was vague. No specifics right now. No making plans, no running off, right.  
  
  
Right.  
  
  
Kaneki’s brows were knit and his knuckles were whitening slowly, a sure sign that his thoughts had wandered to where Hide’s were. Koutarou grumbled to himself a little and clapped Kaneki on the shoulder ( _his hand lingering and the tips of his fingers skating over Kaneki’s collarbone before retreating_ ).  
  
  
“I told you about the parts of the CCG I was investigating. Their deals with Sphinx company…I’m not too sure what they’ll do with your information.”  
  
  
Koutarou gritted out, acting as if the words were glass in his mouth. There was strain in the lines of his body ( _he was such a stubborn man, clinging to some old faith in a sketchy organization_ ). Hide reached across Kaneki and flicked Koutarou’s kneecap, making sure to do it hard enough that the scaaaaaary investigator flinched like a big baby _(“I’m not that delicate” pfffft_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki fidgeted with a rip in the hem of his shirt ( _Hide was no homemaker – they couldn’t fix their clothes all that easily. He wasn’t letting that purple-haired weirdo buy more clothes for Kaneki either. He’d thrown out some of the last ones he’d left behind_ ), then delicately rested a hand on each of their knees,  
  
  
“I…do you remember a student giving information at the CCG, Koutarou? Your superior dragged him through the RC gate.”  
  
  
Kaneki asked, his fingers tracing nonsense patterns on Hide’s jeans and his eyes glittering with…mirth?  
  
  
Oh no, he didn’t!  
  
  
**_He totally did, didn’t he!?_**  
  
  
Koutarou, the slow man that he was ( _he probably still thought Hide hadn’t noticed he’d stopped calling him ‘Nagachika’_ ), was a little lost. He nodded anyway, waiting patiently for the grand reveal ( _this was going to be good_ ).  
  
  
“That was me. I…uhh…RC scanners don’t work on me, it seems. Touka thinks it might be because I’m only half. I was planning to slip in, have a look around, and maybe plant some more information…”  
  
  
Kaneki trailed off, amusement reigning victorious over whatever caution he’d been trying to exercise. He coughed a laugh into his own shoulder and Hide watched as Koutarou blinked once, opening and shutting his mouth in confusion. Finally, he croaked,  
  
  
“Derr`mo.”  
  
  
The Russian caused Hide’s eyebrows to lift and Kaneki’s hands to squeeze their knees a little tighter ( _Hide didn’t understand the fascination, though it was interesting to hear how Koutarou’s voice gained the guttural quality he’d mistakenly attributed to German alone_ ). Koutarou covered his face, then peeked out between his fingers at them like a young boy,  
  
  
“It means ‘shit’. Sorry, that was really startling.”  
  
  
The bashful confession made Hide double over in laughter. He was going to have to keep note of this habit. It’d be fun to see if he could startle Koutarou into teaching him more Russian curses. It’d be a good way to spend his time for…oh, the next few years at least ( _not that he’d admit to planning out a few years with Koutarou yet_ ).  
  
  
The thumb rubbing in a circle over Hide’s knee told him Kaneki was sharing a shy smile with Koutarou ( _his eyes were blurry with laughter-induced tears, though Hide didn’t need to see to know_ ). Hide let the dorks have their moment before he nudged Kaneki, willing him to continue with his long series of plans. If he’d planned to sneak into the CCG, there had to be more.  
  
  
Hide really, **_really_** , wanted to know more. Kaneki’s plans were strikingly similar to those that he’d been trying **_not_** to draw up.  
  
  
Wiping his tears away, Hide nudged Kaneki again ( _impatiently_ ). Kaneki shiftily looked up at the ceiling, withdrawing his hands and tenting them under his chin as he spoke,  
  
  
“I was going to use my contacts to reorder the 6th ward. I heard it was a disaster and Aogiri doesn’t need more desperate people flocking to them. If Kanou hasn’t been arrested…I don’t think that’s appropriate to talk about yet. It’s too soon.”  
  
  
Curiousity was burning a hole in Hide’s brain. Unable to resist, he reached out to Kaneki’s upturned face, caressing his cheek and pressing his thumbs into Kaneki’s temples over that brilliant brain of his. Koutarou was giving him **_the look_** that implied Hide’s eyes had taken on a fervent ( _almost worshipful_ ) light. He should probably restrain himself.  
  
  
...  
  
  
This was too good for restraint.  
  
  
Kaneki had been plotting. **_He’d been plotting well_**. There was a strategist lurking somewhere in the bookworm he’d always know and suddenly Hide **_wanted_** to **_ply_** and **_mold_** it.  
  
  
“I had some similar plans,”  
  
  
Hide’s mouth was saying ( _entirely without his brain’s permission_ ),  
  
  
“For cutting some branches off of the Tree.”  
  
  
If Hide was capable of feeling the kind of desire Kaneki felt for Koutarou, he was dead certain he’d be feeling it now. Kaneki lips turned upwards underneath his palms, forming a razor-sharp wicked smirk. Hide could see Kaneki’s intentions to route his enemies, to cut off any chance of escape, and to engage in exactly the kind of hunting Hide had always told himself was wrong ( _dying everything black, all the darkness in himself dripping down the stairs of Kaneki’s aunt’s house, ohhhhh the things he **could do** but **didn’t do** because it would be a **bad influence** …).  
_  
  
“We could topple Kanou, prevent the CCG from becoming a bigger threat…all it would take are the right words in the right ears. Everyone from Anteiku would be safe…no…more than safe…”  
  
  
Hide muttered, leaning his forehead against Kaneki’s and watching him drink in his ideas eagerly.  
_  
  
_ “People live in the wards. Civilians with homes and families. Don’t go playing any games with casualties you can’t look in the eye afterwards.”  
  
  
Koutarou’s cool voice cut through the haze that Hide had lost himself in. Kaneki was clutching Hide’s face in a mirror image of his own position. He also had the expression of a man ripped out of a dream ( _that was dangerous_ ).  
  
  
Something ugly in Hide didn’t like being shaken awake, however the better parts of him ( _the ones his parents had cultivated and Kaneki had kept alive_ ) shrunk away from how willing he had been to plan out a war with his best friend. He coughed uncomfortably, folding his hands in his lap and trying to think calmly.  
  
  
Corporate corruption was something he could deal with relatively safely. He wanted to know about Sphinx – he wanted to dig his teeth into it until they started hemorrhaging money. But…  
  
  
It was too soon to talk about that. It’d be going to far to make actual solid plans right now ( _he hadn't even..._ ).  
  
  
“Right, ahem, so…”  
  
  
Hide started, sorting out his tone quickly ( _removing the caustic roughness he’d spoken with earlier_ ),  
  
  
“We prevent the CCG from taking hasty action once we leave here. Kaneki is recognizable and they know ‘Kaneki Ken’ is a half-ghoul. We find out about Kanou, catch up on current events, and then think about what’s next. That’s the plan.”  
  
  
Awkwardly, both Koutarou and Kaneki nodded ( _they both glanced at the door fleetingly, making Hide wonder if he should’ve installed more locks_ ). Stiffly, Kaneki stood, walking to the doorway before turning to face them once more.  
  
  
“That’s the plan.”  
  
  
He declared, disappearing from sight ( _probably to the exercise room…he was always there lately_ ).  
  
  
A large hand curled around the ball of Hide’s shoulder in a desperate grip. He sighed, resisting the urge to shrug off Koutarou’s anxiety so he could deal with his own.   
  
  
They made eye contact ( _causing Hide to feel a shiver of pure terror run down his spine_ ). Koutarou’s gaze was wild and he was depending on him to say everything was alright.  
  
  
Both of them knew Kaneki didn’t intend to turn away from danger. He was stepping out of this place and right back into his ‘work’. It was in his eyes, his voice, and the way he walked…like he was almost happy to be doing something so fucking sad ( _he was tired, yes, but he also looked more alive than ever_ ).  
  
  
To investigate an organization he had no faith in.  
  
  
To hunt down the man who was going to ruin others just like he’d tried to ruin him.  
  
  
To return to being the ‘protector’ of his ragtag family of ghouls.  
  
  
To work with ghouls being hunted by the CCG.  
  
  
**_To be hunted by the CCG.  
_**  
  
Derr’mo indeed. Hide knew Kaneki’s feelings ran deeper than just a fear of being alone or the desire to be a good man. He knew that, to Kaneki, losing more people would be like a stab to the chest. He knew that Kaneki had to do this now.  
  
  
Maybe it was better that Kaneki was happy to, if he had to.  
  
  
However, he also knew that he was going with Kaneki and so was Koutarou. He knew Koutarou was worried about Kaneki, worried about returning to the CCG with ugly and difficult to conceal thoughts, and the safety of the people he loves there. He knew Koutarou was bound to go back – he could see the man was lonely and stubborn ( _old ideals clinging like an albatross around his neck_ ).  
  
  
Though Koutarou wouldn’t look away from the threat ahead, Hide knew what kind of man sat before him, his eyes wide with fear. Koutarou dreamed of a house with a dog and a husband. He dreamed of the kind of peaceful happiness that Kaneki’s world could never provide. Hide stepped into the chaos gladly, but Koutarou…  
  
  
Koutarou really loved Kaneki. He really believed in justice. He had also been wronged by this world. **_He was involved.  
_**

Hide let his moment of sentiment pass ( _of convincing Koutarou to leave_ ) and gripped the man’s shoulder in return. He tried to let every last bit of resolve show on his face, every scrap of protective instincts, and the last dregs of his confidence.  
  
  
“We’ll be ok. **_All of us will be ok._** We’re together.”  
  
  
Hide promised firmly, closely analyzing Koutarou’s face as the panic ebbed away ( _it brought a stab of guilt to his heart_ ). He patted his shoulder a couple times, comforting himself as much as Koutarou. Finally, he stood, extending a hand out to the man that had somehow managed to make himself a home in Hide’s empty world.  
  
  
“We can’t just let him work out alone. This is a team effort!”  
  
  
He joked, pulling Koutarou to his feet.  
  
  
They couldn’t let anyone be alone. Not anymore. Not if this was going to work.

  
~~~~~~

  
Kaneki quickly edged away from the wall, silently padding down the hall to the exercise room. Eavesdropping wasn’t usually his thing, but he needed to know what they’d say once he was gone.  
  
  
It wasn’t another test. He was already certain that he trusted them. But this was his choice: his plan, his decision to break the rules, and his desires for once they left…of course, Hide and Koutarou had choices…but this one belonged to him.  
  
  
He didn’t quite trust himself ( _wasn’t sure if he ever really would, not the way he was supposed to_ ). He needed to know that **_they trusted him_**.  
  
  
They hadn’t said much, however they’d said enough. He knew them like his own name by now. They didn’t trust themselves either, or him alone, but trusted the group.  
  
  
And that was the answer he needed to hear ( _for now, at least for now_ ).  
  
  
He slid into workout wear in the changing closet and thumbed the book he’d left in there. Aloud, Kaneki whispered,  
  
  
“ _I exist. In thousands of agonies, I exist. I’m tormented on the rack, but I exist! Though I sit alone in a pillar, **I exist!** I see the sun, and if I don’t see the sun, I know it’s there. And there’s a whole life in that, in knowing that the sun is there.”  
  
  
_ His scalp tingled and his nose itched. He set the book down, walking to the door that led back into the exercise room ( _where his people waited_ ). He pressed his hand against it, a fleeting thought overtaking him.  
  
  
“It’s raining.”  
  
  
There was a whole life in that, wasn’t there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohohoho, there's the bridge into the Shower arc. The nice peaceful mood we've finally settled down with is about to enter a period of upheaval...but hopefully that upheaval will just be the chaos of day to day life. The last pieces are falling into place!
> 
> The quote is from "The Brothers Karamasov". Russian literature felt appropriate this time around, especially one with a plot centring around the concepts of free will and patricide.


	33. Shower (Part 2/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Water exhibits cohesion and adhesion. It sticks together, pulling every molecule forward as it travels onwards.
> 
> (Sexual Content Warning!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarification for those confused: Hide is asexual and isn't interested in actively participating in the sex lives of others, though he doesn't particularly mind. He doesn't want to HAVE sex. However, he is more than just a security blanket in the bedroom and there is more to sex than just the physical act. Emotional intimacy is important to him and to the others, therefore they actually prefer him to be there sometimes.

The floors and walls of Hide’s room were entirely coated in loose pages. Flow charts branched out into random diagrams, hand-drawn by Kaneki, and strangely disconnected jot notes ( _Koutarou’s handiwork_ ). They were plans ( _schemes, really, because Hide was scheming his little heart out_ ). They were the first plans Hide had ever made with another person, let alone two.  
  
  
The new transparency in his and Kaneki’s relationship had so much untapped potential. He hadn’t been able to see it before, forcing himself to believe that understanding without words was somehow more valuable ( _not to say that he didn’t enjoy sharing glances with Kaneki that Koutarou couldn’t understand…it never stopped being funny_ ). Now, though…  
  
  
Hide understood the world as a chain of events ( _hence the diagrams, really_ ) where one thing led to another. He could see the weaknesses and strengths of people exposed through the patterns of their behavior. He clearly identified their ticks, their habits, and the tiny details about them that gave away their secrets ( _dirt on their sleeve, yellowing around the beds of their nails, a peculiar scene_ ).  
  
  
It was enough to be considered a genius. He often compared himself with Sherlock Holmes when him and Kaneki were just children. He had finely honed deductive skills and had shitty morals.  
  
  
What Kaneki had was something different. It might have been bred from the same source, the same examination of simple movements, but it was a different final result. Kaneki would see someone getting angry before they were even angry. He understood people – he connected their little actions to their emotions and the inevitable conclusion of those emotions.  
  
  
He was empathetic where Hide was logical. What once may have been a point of contention in their relationship had become something entirely other. Kaneki’s insight could fill in any and all gaps in Hide’s plans.  
  
  
It was terrifying to see him apply his knowledge consciously.  
  
  
It was **_terrifying_** and Hide loved it.  
  
  
Of course, Kaneki had a one-track mind. Either he considered everyone ( _entire groups, somehow managing to understand the nuances of their interactions and translating them into a dynamic whole_ ), no one ( _the cold persona he could take on to **get things done**_ ), or a single person ( _individuals who were important to him_ ). He wasn’t very good at considering all sides of the story at once.  
  
  
Hide wasn’t very good at directing him in that. He also got fixated on little things once Kaneki drew his attention to them. He was also fixated on Kaneki himself ( _what could he say? He was a weak, weak, man_ ).  
  
  
Surprisingly, Koutarou, their most stubborn and one-track member _(“this world is wrong” is a line he heard…ugh...dozens of times while looking for Kaneki_ ), managed to do what he couldn’t ( _then again, was that even surprising anymore?_ ). Koutarou’s own fixation was justice, that much was obvious, but one would’ve thought ( _based on his behavior towards ghouls in the past_ ) that would mean he’d fall prey to the same issues Kaneki and Hide had.  
  
  
Turns out, his problem had only been that he hadn’t considered ghouls ‘people’.  
  
  
Apparently, Shinohara ( _a man that Hide respected and was beginning to feel he should’ve respected more_ ) had told Koutarou to ‘consider any and all consequences of a plan. People have families to go home to. Minimalize casualties.’. Koutarou was a hot-head, however he’d taken that advice seriously.  
  
  
Koutarou reigned them in with barely a word. A huffy exhale, a quick stroke of the pen ( _slashing out whatever devious thing Hide had written that he disapproved of_ ), or simply an alternate idea stopped them dead in their tracks.  
  
  
“You can love a person and still be a monster, right?”  
  
  
Koutarou had murmured into Kaneki’s hair, his arms wrapped around him as they rested on Hide’s bedroom floor, planning away. Kaneki had nosed at his chin, an affirmative response, and Koutarou had pointedly stared at one of the pages at Hide’s feet.  
  
  
“The CCG is like that. It was created out of love for **_humans_**  and many people in it simply…echo that love. The higher-up’s have twisted that into something unrecognizable, but the regular investigators…they mostly just want to help.”  
  
  
He finished, nudging the paper with his toe. Sighing, Hide crumpled it up ( _no more generating unrest amongst the ghouls in the 20 th ward to distract the CCG, then_).  
  
  
It had been a good plan.  
  
  
It still felt strange that he was **_grateful_** to have scrapped it.  
  
  
Later, he had to wonder yet again: was this really the right choice, bringing someone with morals like Koutarou into a situation that could get them all killed?  
  
  
Snuggled into Kaneki's bed, Hide released a breath he didn’t know he was holding when his soulmate's lips brushed over his knuckles ( _an affirmative response_ ).

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Neither of them was sure whose idea it was to try this, but both Kaneki and Koutarou were determined to be intimate…alone ( _when he started considering “without Hide” to be “alone”, he didn’t know_ ). They still hadn’t advanced to the point of penetrative sex, however the idea of doing **_anything_** alone was still daunting.  
  
  
Kaneki, at least, **_wanted_** to try ( _Koutarou seemed to want it too, but these were things Kaneki was never completely sure about_ ).  
  
  
Would it be different without Hide in the room? Would his presence be missed? He was certainly more than a safety blanket or a buffer between Kaneki’s fears and reality, no matter how it may have seemed at first. However, there were times that Kaneki connected best to people alone ( _he believed it was the same for others too, as many novels made a point of_ ).  
  
  
He **_wanted_** to connect ( _to focus fully on every stuttering rise and fall of Koutarou’s chest or to feel his fluttering pulse and nothing else_ ). They were connecting, more deeply than ever before ( _trust meant the world to Koutarou and validation of his trust meant the same to Kaneki_ ), but…  
  
  
Either curiousity would be the death of him, or he was right in thinking that being alone was important sometimes ( _just like the hours he spent in Hide’s room, just combing his fingers through his hair. Individual bonds required care…right?_ ).  
  
  
It was doubtlessly shaky ground. It was reckless. It could cause setbacks. There were plenty of arguments to be made against it.  
  
  
However, neither of his lovers tried to push him out of the idea. In fact, it might’ve been one of their ideas ( _that was the trouble with spending so much time together. The who said what becomes so terribly muddled_ ).  
  
  
**_They believed in him and in each other.  
  
_**  
That, more than anything, made him feel like he could drag Koutarou into his bed with a smile on his face. Limits still had to be set though, and so he took pains to clear the air first ( _he recalled dozens of books, wonderfully written and nuanced, that completely skipped the idea of talking before sex. It was always tumbling into passion…he wondered if it worked like that for other people and if he was just wr_ -).  
  
  
As Kaneki lay back on the mattress and Koutarou positioned himself over him, he gently pressed a hand to Koutarou’s chest ( _holding him back_ ).  
  
  
“We can’t have sex.”  
  
  
He firmly stated, reaffirming something that had thus far gone unsaid ( _penetration was just going…too far_ ). Koutarou’s bright expression clouded over, hurt showing in his averted eyes. For the slightest second, Kaneki’s thoughts were a whirlwind.  
  
  
_He couldn’t give Koutarou what he wanted.  
  
  
He wasn’t good enough.  
  
  
He was being a coward.  
  
  
This was all Koutarou wanted from him.  
  
  
He’d reject him._

Each thought hit hard and fast, almost like a physical blow, before the last one cleared the fog.  
 

“Koutarou, shit, no,”  
  
  
Kaneki swore, withdrawing his hands and tensing up,  
  
  
“I’m not rejecting **_you_** , I’m just rejecting **_that_**. I wasn’t trying to say-”  
  
  
Kaneki wasn’t certain what he was trying to say. There was nothing he could say that wasn’t technically a rejection. He wasn’t willing to rescind his limits either.  
  
  
“I killed the mood, I’m sorry. We can try again another day.”  
  
  
He blurted, rolling himself up from underneath Koutarou and heading straight for the door ( _refusing to look back_ ), absolutely mortified about his own lack of tact and continued inability to **_just fucking explain himself_** -  
  
  
“You know…”  
  
  
Koutarou’s voice floated over to him languidly ( _a careful edge buried in it_ ) without a trace of the prior hurt,  
  
  
“You enjoying yourself is more than enough for me. My,”  
  
  
Kaneki turned to face him on time to see Amon, resting on his elbows on the bed, wave a hand at his crotch,  
  
  
“Isn’t the only thing I can use, if that’s what you’ve been so worried about.”  
  
  
Koutarou’s expression became considering past the flustered pink of his cheeks ( _drawn together eyebrows and his nose scrunched up the slightest bit_ ),  
  
  
“This has been troubling you, hasn’t it? I’m not saying we should try now, but later, with Hide arou-“  
  
  
Kaneki cut him off by taking a step back towards the bed and reaching out a hand ( _the intimacy of this moment, the privacy…it was important. **He could feel it**_ ). Koutarou sat up, stretching out to meet him in the middle with confusion on his face.  
  
  
“No,”  
  
  
Kaneki muttered to himself, speaking louder when he saw Koutarou straining to hear,  
  
  
“We could try that now. I can’t believe it didn’t even occur to me…”  
  
  
He trailed off into a scratchy chuckle, wondering why he’d been so caught up in the idea that he had to throw himself into a done deal ( _or that he’d be on the bottom, to be honest_ ). A ‘done deal’ was always how it was in the books, in the movies, in the stories his friends would share over sake and beer, and the boasts his coworkers used to bring out when they were sure the boss was gone.  
  
  
However, there were things easier to start and to end…and Koutarou’s hands had always been beautiful: slender and clever…  
  
  
It hadn’t occurred to him, even when it had ( _when Koutarou took him into his mouth with a dazed and heated expression or when Koutarou submissively and delightedly licked at his fingers while watching his expression change_ ), that this man **_wanted_** to give.  
  
  
To him, there wasn’t a separation to giving and taking.  
  
  
A tinge of tentative hope and apprehension showing in Koutarou’s stance ( _the curling in of his shoulders combined with the steady grip of his hand_ ) reminded Kaneki that Koutarou was even more of a virgin than he was. He wouldn’t have wanted to steamroll straight into sex without any delicacy.  
  
  
**_He would’ve been afraid, too._**  
  
  
There were some lessons in life that needed to be learned again and again, weren't there? Pulling himself into Koutarou’s lap and embracing him, Kaneki wondered if this was a lesson he’d ever learn thoroughly enough to be completely without doubt. When ( _free of hesitation_ ) Koutarou’s arms closed around him, Kaneki considered that his doubt was acceptable and that Koutarou was always willing to accept it ( _instead of ‘waiting’_ ).  
  
  
“Thank you, for thinking of my pleasure, even if it wasn’t entirely necessary.”  
  
  
Koutarou said ( _his throat vibrating against Kaneki’s nose, tickling it badly enough that he wanted to sneeze_ ),  
  
  
“And thank you for taking care of yourself, despite thinking it would deny me something.”  
  
  
Kaneki simply hummed in acknowledgement, tucking the emotional moment away. There were better ways to show how happy Koutarou made him than crying into his chest.  
  
  
“How about you show me then,”  
  
  
Kaneki huskily murmured against Koutarou’s skin ( _Kaneki's legs locking around his hips_ ),  
  
  
“What **_other_** things you can use.”  
  
  
Koutarou swallowed thickly and Kaneki could hear his heart begin to hammer ( _it always made his hunting instincts show themselves, but it seemed one pleasure could be crushed beneath another that meant more to him_ ).  
  
  
“I…”  
  
  
Koutarou drew in a shuddering breath when Kaneki began to twist his hips in tiny playful circles. A growl began building up in his throat when Koutarou’s eyes fluttered closed and his hands pushed Kaneki’s hips further down.  
  
  
“Let me show you what you mean to me.”  
  
  
Koutarou gasped, fighting to open his eyes and look at Kaneki, his hands continuing to add force to Kaneki’s grinding movements. Curiousity overtook him and he slowed his hips, choosing to thread his fingers through Koutarou’s hair instead ( _soothing instead of stimulating_ ), allowing him to speak.  
  
  
“ _I s teh samyh por, kak ja vstretil tebja, moim edinstvennym želaniem bylo - poklanjat’sja tebe.”  
_  
  
A rumble of Russian spilt from Koutarou’s lips and Kaneki shivered happily. The only word he could recognize promised great things to come ( _it made him feel secure and wanted)_.  
  
  
“Worship, eh? How would you go about-“  
  
  
As Kaneki spoke, Koutarou rolled him over on the bed. He began to undress in a blissfully slow manner. It was probably the closest thing he’d ever get to a strip-tease and Kaneki was more than willing to sit back and watch ( _even though Koutarou had to struggle to free his shoulders from his shirt and Kaneki nearly laughed_ ). Though he’d thought Koutarou would repeat the process with Kaneki's clothes, something else was in store for him.  
  
  
Long elegant fingers slid underneath his belt loops as he was unbuttoned and unzipped. Every inch of skin exposed by the slow ( _torturous_ ) removal of his pants was thoroughly palmed, massaged, kissed, licked, **_bitten_** …  
  
  
If he weren’t a ghoul, he’d be covered in bruises. As it was, Koutarou seemed fascinated by the red blossoming hickies that quickly faded back into white skin.  
  
  
“ _Nichto ne dolzhno kogda-libo zamet'te , dazhe yesli zakhochu.”  
_  
  
Koutarou spoke between harsh bites and soothing nuzzles, his silky hair brushing against Kaneki’s irritated skin. It made his skin tingle, as did the cool breath skimming over the wet marks Koutarou left in his wake.  
  
  
“If you’re worshipping me, are you saying your prayers?”  
  
  
Kaneki asked, trying for humour, but only sounding breathless and turned on ( _Koutarou’s pupils dilated impossibly further. The darkness in his green eyes reminded Kaneki of kakugans, sending a strange pang directly to his hips_ ).  
  
  
“You’ll make a sinner of me yet.”  
  
  
Was Koutarou’s response ( _accompanying a final tug that freed Kaneki completely of his jeans_ ). His voice was rich with the timbre that it sunk into whenever he spoke Russian or Latin - deep and resonating in Kaneki’s bones. He wanted to hear more of it ( _indicating as such with an imperious tilt of his head_ ).  
  
  
Koutarou didn’t laugh at the little show. Instead, a serious mask fell over his face, his eyes fever-bright with hunger.  
  
  
“You want prayers? I’ll thank God for this meal.”  
  
  
He said, hitching Kaneki’s knees around his shoulders and placing his own fingers into his mouth. He spoke past them, the words garbled and somehow all the more appealing:  
  
  
“ _Benedicite. Edent pauperes et saturabuntur, et laudabunt Dominum, qui requirunt eum: vivant corda eorum in saeculum saeculi. Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum. Amen_.”  
  
  
He paused, pulling wet fingers from his mouth and trailing them up Kaneki’s inner thigh admiringly. His thumb circled the tense muscles of Kaneki’s ass and, seemingly deciding something, he palmed the delicate skin behind his balls instead.  
  
  
When Kaneki arched his spine in pleasure, Koutarou continued his prayer.  
  
  
“ _Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison. Kyrie eleison. Pater noster…”  
_  
  
Kaneki interrupted him with a cry of,  
  
  
“There! Please, do it lightly. Ahh…”  
  
  
And Koutarou’s expression ( _when Kaneki could finally bring himself to open his eyes_ ) was lit with devotion ( _all soft corners and delicate sentiment_ ). His voice was the only thing keeping Kaneki grounded as Koutarou began to mouth at his cock, speaking his sermon directly to it, and his clever fingers quickly gave him exactly what he wanted.  
  
  
“ _Et ne nos inducas in tentationem -_  No, I don’t want to be delivered from temptation. **_I want to drown in it._** ”  
  
  
A long low groan escaped Kaneki’s very soul when two of Koutarou’s fingers sank into him from behind. There was a brief burn, like the feeling of opening one’s mouth too wide, and he found he liked it ( _it didn’t sting, it didn’t rip, it didn’t feel like something much much worse_ ). He was grateful Koutarou had done it while distracting him ( _so thoroughly that his anxiety could flare for mere seconds before being swept away_ ).  
  
  
“ ** _More._** ”  
  
  
He demanded, pushing his hips back against Koutarou’s fingers, ignoring the lips just barely teasing the skin of his dick. He wanted more of that burn, the familiar combination of pain and pleasure his piercings had brought him. He also wanted, suddenly ( _with a stirring of hungry desire in his belly_ ), to have Koutarou inside him in whatever manner possible ( _to have, to hold, to ea-_ ).  
  
  
In response, those wonderful hands moved, driving the fingers deeper and stretching him pleasantly. Koutarou used his free hand to run over the skin of Kaneki's hips in a delicate caress that sharply contrasted with the pumping of Koutarou’s other hand.  
  
  
“I have no idea what I did to deserve you, but I’ll never stop being grateful.”  
  
  
Koutarou whispered, placing a kiss against the flat planes of Kaneki’s stomach and gazing up at him lovingly. Koutarou’s hand wandered from his hip to the small of his back, tracing the outline of his kakuhou ( _the skin there was rougher than the rest - a little scarred and sensitive_ ) as he shivered and twitched.  
  
  
“I want to touch you until I forget which of us is which.”  
  
  
His words painted an image in Kaneki’s mind, one of them so intertwined that they could never be separated again. Something was missing, but God it brought him pleasure anyway. The fingers inside of him had increased in number and epithets left him with every exhale ( _Koutarou seemed to devour them like a starving man, moving faster and adding intricate twists that made spots appear in Kaneki’s vision_ ).  
  
  
“I want to be under you, over you, **_inside of you_** …I want to give you everything.”  
  
  
Kaneki’s shirt was gone, whisked away to some corner of the room, and Koutarou’s tongue mapped his body, dipping into his collarbones along with the sensitive places behind his elbow and wrist. For every moan he let out, Koutarou made pleased little sounds that fuelled the fire building in him.  
  
  
It was rapturous.  
  
  
No part of him was ignored, no sense denied. His ears were filled with murmured prayers, compliments and professions of love and loyalty. His vision, when not erased completely by overstimulation, was filled with the almost innocent face Koutarou made as he tipped him into orgasm. Koutarou’s eyes were wide and his smile was soft ( _eager to please, happy to be here_ ). He could smell the arousal in the air and the delightful ( _mouth watering_ ) scent of Koutarou.  
  
  
He could ** _taste it_ ** when Koutarou’s tongue brushed against the roof of his mouth.  
  
  
“Fuckkkkk…”  
  
  
Kaneki groaned, his arms snaking around Koutarou’s neck while he pulled away ( _presumably to return to kissing every single part of his body_ ). The groan made Koutarou hesitate, his eyes glazing over completely, and Kaneki was made perfectly aware of the hardness pressed into his hip from where Koutarou sprawled beside him ( _the man was flexible and had a long reach. It was something to remember_ ).  
  
  
The heat sent a thrill through his spine and a flicker of something _dark_ through his brain. Stubbornly, he moaned again, encouraging Koutarou to continue ( _distract him, worship him_ ).  
  
  
“I’d love to.”  
  
  
Koutarou replied ( _had he said that aloud?_ ) and drew away back down the length of Kaneki’s body, leaving his cock teasingly untouched and erect ( _though he looked at it longingly, making Kaneki burn with the desire to just-_ ).  
  
  
Time and sensations began to blur as Koutarou’s fingers twisted and turned, changing their depth, touching his prostate lightly, harder, then moving away to stretch his walls.  
  
  
Koutarou’s soft bites played over the rosy skin covering Kaneki’s Achilles tendon ( _like his fingernails and toenails it had never been quite right after-_ ). Kaneki flinched, wishing for a hand in his ( _Hide-_ ), but the bite morphed into a nuzzle and Latin words.  
  
  
He was rolled over and his spine was stroked. The back of his neck tingled when his hair was pulled, softly, then more firmly when he whispered,  
  
  
“Yes.”  
  
  
Koutarou’s weight had only settled for a second over his kakuhou, his hand sliding out of him ( _a long wet drag of skin on skin_ ), when Kaneki’s tense muscles caused him to roll off and onto his side. Koutarou whispered,  
  
  
“I love you.”  
  
  
So quietly against the skin he'd been straddling that Kaneki wasn’t sure if he heard him right ( _neither of them had properly…exchanged those words_ ). Then Koutarou’s mouth moved lower and his tongue was shaping different words inside of him.  
  
  
Kaneki shook on his hands and knees, grinding his forehead against the pillow as Koutarou ate him out. He wasn’t sure how many times he’d come at this point. He could smell semen and knew some was Koutarou’s ( _tantalizing_ ). His mind was utterly blank.  
  
  
He cried out Koutarou’s name and his knees gave out on him when pleasure overcame him once again. Strong arms caught his body and he was settled gently on a dry spot on the bed, twitching and so blissfully **_blank_** it was unbelievable.  
  
  
His skin was wiped down and his hair was finger-combed out of the mess it had gotten into. Fluttering lips caressed his knees and elbows, his hips and chest, the palms of his hands, and finally his mouth.  
  
  
“I forgot which one of us was which.”  
  
  
Kaneki laughed, curling into Koutarou’s warmth. He had revelled in being able to feel so close to Koutarou. He had felt like they were one person. He wouldn’t have had tonight go any differently.  
  
  
Koutarou chuckled, shifting himself around to remove his thoroughly stained clothing without jostling Kaneki too much. They were both exhausted and once Koutarou was done, Kaneki entangled them as much as he could.  
  
  
Just on the cusp of sleep, a thought caught him. Would Hide smile when Kaneki’s head was thrown back in ecstasy? Would he talk him down from orgasm? Would he lay with him and Koutarou afterwards? Would Kaneki get to see him press his hands comfortingly into Koutarou’s shoulders and watch his heart unwind in the hands of his soul?  
  
  
The sex had been perfect. Nothing had been 'missing'...not really. However, it wasn’t **_better_**.  
  
  
There were times to be alone, to reaffirm individual bonds, but…  
  
  
There were other times, too.  
  
  
It was something to keep in mind.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Stirring on a morning like any other, Kaneki let nostalgia colour his movements through his daily activities. His thoughts wandered through recent events as if they were years old. As if the apartment was his old home, not his current one.  
  
  
Every day, everyone who lived there trained together. They toyed with easy touches and affectionate gestures, though the rare bad day still reared its ugly head ( _and made Kaneki fear never being able to touch anyone again_ ).  
  
  
Their hands would brush.  
  
  
Hide’s arm settled contentedly around his shoulders or wound around his waist.  
  
  
Koutarou’s fingers teased his hair and massaged his scalp.  
  
  
Both of his hands were often held, one each in the hands of the people he trusted most.  
  
  
Eating was becoming increasing terrible for each of them. Their food supplies were not being replaced and their dwindling amounts were a constant reminded that they were **_leaving_**. Kaneki would need to eat more once he left…  
  
  
He already did need to eat more, though. The hunger was ever present, invasive and muddling his mind, but he'd eaten more. He’d called off more than one physical encounter with Koutarou and Hide because of the lines blurring inside of his head when one or the other was too close.  
  
  
He had tried to do what Koutarou enjoyed so much, wrapping his tongue around the other man’s cock. It had tasted heavenly. It tasted like butter fudge, melting in his mouth, making him drool. He had fled ( _literally running away_ ) and had awkwardly explained himself much much later.  
  
  
Hide had given him a funny look and guilt drove Kaneki to eat a few extra bits at dinner ( _notenoughnotenough_ ).  
  
  
That incident had hurt Koutarou and Hide’s feelings, he was sure. But he was also confident that they could comfort each other through it. He couldn’t apologize.  
  
  
Despite this, there was trust all around. Kaneki trusted Koutarou with his body. Koutarou trusted him with his heart. Hide and Kaneki trusted each other to not destroy themselves.  
  
  
Hide trusted Koutarou with Kaneki, made clear by the times he left them alone. However, those times happened more than they should ( _Kaneki had felt...lonely. Even with someone else, it was lonely without Hide_ ).  
  
  
So it came to pass that Koutarou trusted Hide too. He made a quiet request of Hide, his hand entwined with Kaneki’s,  
  
  
“Let’s all sleep in the same room - share the same bed. Ken feels best when you’re around.”  
  
  
They’d discussed it ( _tentatively, not wanting to ruin the intimacy privacy had given them_ ) and had come to the same conclusion, so Kaneki nodded at Hide, verifying what Koutarou had said. Hide was surprised ( _sending a stab of guilt through Kaneki's gut_ ), however he’d quickly broken into a huge grin.  
  
  
“Oh, I thought that after you guys tried it alone-“  
  
  
He mused, thumbing at his chin in thought,  
  
  
“Well, since you guys left me out, I gotta say I realized something. This might make Mr. Investigator take back his offer, but I think I like being in the room with you guys. It’s like…second-hand ecstasy or something. I can feel your elation and that’s pretty pleasant, actually.”  
  
  
It brought to mind the questions Kaneki had pondered ( _would Hide smile when Kaneki threw back his head in ecstasy?_ ). Surprisingly ( _to Hide, not to Kaneki, since he had seen the strange expression Koutarou had made when they’d woken up in the morning that first time_ ), Koutarou clapped Hide on the shoulder.  
  
  
“As much as I enjoy alone time with Ken,”  
  
  
He said, smiling shyly down at their clasped hands,  
  
  
“and sometimes I think I’ll **_need_** it, Ken is happier when you are there. Even I think…”  


A crimson flush climbed up Koutarou’s neck,  
  
  
“That there are times where it’s best for you to be there. Your presence is soothing, but also…I don’t know. **_It can be better with you_**.”  


Hide had promptly turned red and laughed himself sick, never dislodging the arm Koutarou had settled around his shoulders. Kaneki hooked his arm in Hide’s as well. Arm in arm, they all ambled off to the dining room to return to scheming.  
  
  
All his memories from this apartment flowed together without interruption. Everything here had a certain sense to it, Kaneki thought ( _staring at the white carpets that he’d never understood_ ).

  
Comprise defined them here, but not only that. Cohesion and adhesion…they stuck together like water.  
  
  
It was an analogy he was fond of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Russian means:
> 
> "And then, since we first met, my only wish was to worship you."  
> "Nothing should mark you, even though I want to." 
> 
> The prayers are Catholic-Latin and are said by a priest before a meal. The line before Amon switches languages is a request from the Lord to deliver the congregation from temptation. 
> 
> Haha, oh my body worship can be a difficult concept to actually try to write down. Though Amon is making most of the moves, it is Kaneki who is in the most complete control. I'm not sure if I'm pleased with the scope I've presented it to, but I'm satisfied for now.


	34. Shower (Part 3/3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, all water returns to the ocean. As the tides, it cannot be stopped. This is how things have always been and will always be. 
> 
> Despite the pull of the tides, there is no struggle.
> 
> (I'm really sorry I haven't updated in so long - I got a job in a lab on top of being a full-time student! It's really been kicking my ass and I can't tell my supervisors that I didn't write them a paper bc fanfiction)

The warmth might be the best part. Kaneki recalled his early university days, struggling to get his cranky old heater to provide him with something between “Oh God, I’m burning to death” and “I can’t feel my anything”. With Koutarou and Hide curled around him in bed, he was exactly the temperature he wanted to be.  
  
  
It made him never want to get out of bed, but the humans ( _it was a less painful thought now_ ) would want breakfast eventually and being in bed wasn’t as peaceful alone.  
  
  
He was actually a little surprised that both Koutarou and Hide were still asleep. Koutarou slept like a log, so it was completely normal for him to sleep later than Kaneki ( _his huge arms curled behind Kaneki’s shoulder blades, cradling him into a warm well-muscled chest, or wrapped protectively around Hide’s waist_ ). He was used to Hide being the early bird 9 times out of 10, beating him to the kitchen and sneaking around, though.

Then again, maybe Hide didn’t need to wake up early anymore. Their days of sneaking around were over.  
  
  
It was nice waking up to both of them still with him. Their faces were so relaxed ( _free of the tension waiting for them outside_ ) and they both looked so young. He wanted to protect them from everything when they were like this ( _a silent vigil over their rest…the first watch_ ).  
  
  
A sense of purpose flooded him as he stroked Hide’s hair ( _which had reached the point of exactly half-blonde half-golden brown, brushing against his collarbones_ ). He would make the world a safer place for them. They would help him, of course, but he’d be there by their sides to stop them from hurtling off the nearest cliff or something equally dramatic.  
  
  
This was how protecting the people you loved was supposed to be, wasn’t it?  
  
  
He had so much to apologize for. He had so much lost time to make up for. Promising to come back wasn’t enough. If he had’ve come back like he had been at the end of that battle…  
  
  
Anteiku was waiting for him. He was coming back, having kept his promise, and he wouldn’t apologize to anyone.  
  
  
He’d thank them instead.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
The harsh white kitchen lights glanced off of Kaneki’s red ceramic mug, blinding him momentarily as he rotated it in his hands. He blinked away the spots in his vision, hurriedly taking a sip, scalding his tongue in his rush. Not that he’d mind losing his taste buds or anything, but the pain was unpleasant ( _Hide would be happy to hear that, wouldn’t_ _he?_ ).  
 

As if he could sense his name being thought, Hide moved from his seat to stand behind Kaneki, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face into Kaneki’s hair.  
  
  
“You know, it almost smells like it used to now.”  
  
  
Hide murmured, pressing his lips to the top of Kaneki’s head. Kaneki made a querying noise, curiously trying to tilt his head up to see Hide’s ( _probably amused_ ) expression while Koutarou smiled fondly.  
  
  
“He’s right. Your hair looks less fluffy now, too.”  
  
  
Koutarou chimed in, reaching across the table to catch a shimmering white strand between his fingers,  
  
  
“It’s smoother, like it used to be.”  
  
  
Kaneki felt Hide’s smile against his scalp,  
  
  
“There’s a little bit of black near the roots, buddy. It seems like you won’t be a grandpa anymore someday soon.”  
  
  
Hide teased, squishing Kaneki’s cheeks with his hands as he continued to nuzzle against his head. Koutarou placatingly patted Kaneki’s shoulder, with a not-at-all sympathetic grin,  
  
  
“I don’t think you look like a grandpa.”  
  
  
Kaneki nearly groaned when he felt the wicked thoughts flickering through Hide’s mind.  
  
  
“Don-“  
  
  
He started to say, however Hide cut him off.  
  
  
“True,”  
  
  
Hide stated, his hands working on the back of Kaneki’s neck in a massage that turned him to goo ( _goo that couldn't protest any further_ ),  
  
  
“Koutarou is the old one here. He’s practically a cradle-robber!”

The spluttering across the table and the raucous laughter behind him were borderline nostalgic.  
  
_  
This is the way things should always be._  
  
  
Was the thought that danced across his mind, sparking off as a tingling feeling of joy in his fingertips and toes. Then,  
  
  
_I want to see them laughing with the people from Anteiku._  
  
  
Made his heart swell to the point of bursting. God, he wanted to see that.  
  
  
**_He could have the things he wanted now.  
_**  
  
“I don’t want to hide here anymore.”  
  
  
Kaneki said, interlacing his fingers with Koutarou and Hide’s,  
  
  
“I won’t hide my locations from my friends anymore. They should know where I am.”  
  
  
His tone was gentle and supplicating, not quite concealing the demand it was wound around. His thumbs brushed over the knuckles of both the hands he had captured, running in soothing circles.  
  
  
Koutarou’s eyes were wide, however Kaneki thought his nervousness wasn’t about bringing people into their space ( _he was scared of meeting “the parents” so to speak_ ). Hide’s jaw worked against his skull,  
  
  
“We can bring them here, however I would’ve liked to keep you in an isolated environment awhile longer.”  
  
  
It felt like it had been ages since he last heard Hide’s clinical ‘leader’ voice, though it had probably only been several days. The distance that tone implied made him uncomfortable. Despite understanding why it was used, Kaneki still twisted his head to try and catch a glimpse of Hide. His friend obliged his wishes, looking him in the face.  
  
  
Kaneki stared hard into Hide’s eyes, drawing out the moment for as long as possible before finally nodding ( _there was jealousy there, but concern and trust were predominant in Hide’s gaze_ ).  
  
  
“I want you to meet my family.”  
  
  
Kaneki stated, firmly enough to try and dissolve the jealousy,  
  
  
“I want to show them the people I love.”  
  
  
He’d said it. **_He’d finally said it._**  
  
  
Though he’d expected his heart to be hammering in his chest ( _at the way Hide’s breath caught or the way Koutarou’s body froze_ ), all he felt was…  
  
  
Peace.  
  
  
Hide had heard that Kaneki loved him before, though he usually avoided the words. Koutarou never had however, and they’d never heard it together _(‘the people I love’, not ‘the one I love’_ ). He glanced away from Hide’s face ( _carrying a grin like the sun streaming through the kitchen window of Hide’s childhood home, warm, safe, and just…right_ ) to look at Koutarou. He wanted to see him.  
  
  
Koutarou was crying, though Kaneki had never seen him smile like he was. He’d seen soft looks, he’d seen adoration smooth out all the harsh angles of Koutarou’s handsome face, and he’d even seen euphoria colouring Koutarou’s cheeks pink and his eyes going hazy with bliss. But this…  
  
  
Once, just once ( _because it had caused him pain_ ), he’d gone with his mother to visit a friend of hers who had just given birth after trying for years and years. They’d stepped into the room the moment the child had fallen asleep in his mother’s arms. Everything about her had seemed focused on the bundle on her arms. It was like every positive emotion in her life had been condensed into one moment and given to her child.  
  
  
It was the expression of somebody who was being given everything they had ever wanted and more. It was fulfillment… ** _absolution_** …it was the face he could picture Koutarou wearing at the altar ( _in a suit and tie with shaking hands_ ).  
  
  
He turned back to Hide, suddenly aware of the heat in his ears, and saw the exact same expression on Hide’s face.  
  
  
Suddenly, he felt for the first time that there wasn’t enough time in a single human life. Even if he lived forever, he could never give these people back enough of this emotion. He would always be hungry for it, too.  
  
  
**_“Please.”_ **  
  
  
Kaneki whispered, requesting more time ( _wanting to live forever, wanting to die, wanting to just be here, now, for the rest of his short life_ ), asking to let his friends visit ( _he wanted Touka to see this, he wanted Yomo to know he was ok, he wanted_ …), and begging for this to be real.  
  
  
His lovers ( _his heart and his soul_ ) were both sobbing like children now, piling onto him, dragging him off his kitchen chair and onto the floor.  
  
  
“Crybabies.”  
  
  
Kaneki muttered, pressing a thousand butterfly kisses to any and all available skin around him ( _the taste of salt filled his mouth and he pretended that some of it wasn’t from his own tears_ ).

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Throughout his call with the purple-haired bastard, Hide’s hands convulsively twitched and his teeth ground together ( _a memory of digging his teeth into his own skin_ ). He’d managed to arrange a meeting, despite ending on a cruel note (‘ _he loves me, you know’_ ).  
  
  
As far as he knew, the people he had invited over were the least likely to be a threat. They knew better than to set Kaneki off. They had experience with his episodes and didn’t want to be the cause of more of them.  
  
  
That was just ‘ _as far as he knew’_ , however. The idea of people actually being at his doorstep…it was harder to face now that it wasn’t just an idea. A million things could go wrong. A million things **_would_** go wrong.  
  
  
But Kaneki would be ok. He’d be ok, Hide would reintroduce himself to Kaneki’s family, and Koutarou would meet them for the first time.  
  
  
This was an excellent opportunity, despite having more loopholes and pitfalls than the script he’d written for a movie in 5 th grade ( _his parents had been supportive, but he’d found it again not too long ago and the embarrassment had been extreme_ ).  
  
  
The knock at the door was a tentative request. Then another knock came, higher than the first, and it sounded like a demand. It suited his guests.  
  
  
They were there.  
  
  
Hide held his breath and opened the door

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Every single night since the raid, Touka had waited. They opened a new café with Yoshimura’s remaining funds. They had a grand opening with dozens of human attendees, people who had no idea what was in their midst. Touka served customers. She blended coffee. She cared for Hinami.  
  
  
**_She waited._**  
  
  
He had promised to come back. She knew he was safe. She had been told that ( _even if she hadn’t, she would’ve believed_ ). Knowing this, she waited.  
  
  
Her sleep was dreamless and passed quickly ( _even her subconscious was waiting_ ). Her waking hours were consumed by a gradual creeping peace.  
  
  
She felt that she stood in the eye of a storm.  
  
  
There was so much more to life than resisting change. Bitter sentiments would take her nowhere. Her pain could not be ignored, but she would not languish.  
  
  
It did not bring back the dead.  
  
  
It did not bring home those who were missing.  
  
  
It would not take her back to Yoriko, watching students scamper across the school ground side by side.  
  
  
The first days had been hard, despite the realization she had made when Yomo spoke to her softly about what it meant to **_live_**. They had been full of the feelings of…  
  
  
**_Failure…_**  
  
  
**_Loss…_**  
  
  
**_Weakness.  
_**  
  
To wait, to relinquish control, to not fight and fight and **_fight_** …  
  
  
She felt that she was a coward, turning her back on her friends, surrendering herself to injustice. It was just another kind of death. ** _It wasn’t freedom._**  
  
  
And yet…  
  
  
_‘The tide rises, the tide falls, masterless and all-consuming. The salt-soaked air pulls at my skin. There is no struggle, I will not falter.’  
_  
  
The books she read as she waited spoke to her ( _they reminded her of the failings of the people she loved. They reminded her of everything she fought against_ ). Fight the tide and you will be consumed. If you do not struggle ** _, if you understand_** , it will carry you.  
  
  
Things in the world…tumbled forward. The sun rose and set. The winds came and went.  
  
  
Nothing controlled them. They did not struggle.  
  
  
There was strength to be had in willing submission to circumstance, but not to fate. She could make a choice: to understand her current situation ( _she wasn’t yet strong enough to fight the world and win_ ) and to rebuild, or to destroy everything in the name of **_pride_**.  
  
  
Because pride…was all it ever was. Pride to cover up fear ( _she didn’t want to be a monster_ ). Pride in her abilities ( _swooping down and raining terror on her enemies_ ). Pride in her people ( _ghouls deserve to live_ ). Pride that she was unfettered and unbroken ( _despite being in a human school, despite being a murderer, despite Ayato, despite Arata_ …).  
  
  
**_Pride was useless to her when she had to be strong_**.  
  
  
So she waited. She gave her time, her heart, her mind, to rebuilding what had been lost. She created and didn’t destroy.  
  
  
It gave her peace. It made her immovable.  
  
  
Things began to move again however, when the door to a nondescript apartment opened and she saw Nagachika Hideyoshi’s face. He smiled ( _fake as ever_ ) and gestured for them to come in after suspiciously eying the area behind them ( _like someone might pop out and take Kaneki away from him_ ).  
  
  
Then his face contorted with pain as Hinami punched him right in the stomach. Though he groaned loudly, sounding like the punch was as solid as Hinami could manage without killing him, he shut the door behind them. The noises of pain also summoned Kaneki into the room, some other person trailing behind him.  
  
  
Whoever that person was however, was absolutely lost on her when she saw Kaneki’s eyes lock onto Hinami’s.  
  
  
He strode forwards, his muscles bunching up, and a serious expression rested upon his face. Then suddenly, he stooped and swept Hinami up into his arms.  
  
  
He twirled her around, her laughter tinkling like bells in the dead air of the apartment. Finally, without setting her down, he buried his face into her hair and breathed in deeply, his eyelids sliding shut and a whisper of a smile threading across his face. He was whispering in her ear, words that had no meaning other than love, and he didn’t let go of her.  
  
  
Touka couldn’t help but remember everything that Hinami had said before coming here.

_‘If anyone understands him, it’s me! I felt what he felt! I wanted to hurt people too, but I didn't! I worked harder than them to understand him!’  
  
  
‘I am his family, not them!’  
  
_

_‘He never held onto me for long enough. Nobody else deserves to hold him.’  
  
_

And yet, he wasn’t letting go. Hinami was completely bundled into his arms like a princess. His hands stroked her hair and his face was relaxed ( _almost…happy_ ).  
  
  
At length, he finally looked up from his little sister. His gaze fell onto Touka like they were the only two people in the room.  
  
  
She felt tears gathering in her eyes and she tightened her jaw ( _trying to hold them at bay_ ).  
  
  
Kaneki’s mouth framed her name, something a part of her had been sure she’d never hear from his lips again, and it was suddenly too much.  
  
  
She launched herself at him, uncaring of the other occupants of the room, calling out,  
  
  
“Fuck it! I love you, you bastard!”  
  
  
And throwing her arms around him. Hinami squeaked at the sudden intrusion, but Touka was too far gone to care. She was sobbing like an idiot and Kaneki was laughing.  
  
  
He laughed like he was choking on all the mistakes he’d ever made, laughing like he was dying, and it was an awful sound that had him wrapping one arm around Touka like he’d never let go ever again.  
  
  
“Next time, I’m gonna be the one who saves you, you son of a bitch!”  
  
  
Touka hoarsely murmured into Kaneki’s shoulder. His hand tightened over her skin, nearly bruising ( _just enough to let her know he was alive_ ),  
  
  
“I came back, though. **_I’m alive, Touka._** I’m alive.”  
  
  
He responded, his untrimmed nails digging into her skin even through her shirt. She beat her fists ineffectually against his back, bursting out,  
  
  
“You’re never allowed to leave me again! You’re not allowed!”  
  
  
His nails finally dug in enough to draw blood. Their shared blood. They’d made a blood promise ( _they were family now_ ).  
  
  
She leaned back just enough to stare at him and searched his face for an answer. Instead of giving her his word, he brushed his bloody fingertips against her cheek solemnly.  
  
  
Though he might leave again, she was coming with him. They’d made a blood promise.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
From her safe space in her brother and sister’s arms, Hinami glared venomously at the two strange men in the room. They were both unabashedly staring at Kaneki as if he were the sun. Maybe they’d never seen him like this before?  
  
  
Good. They didn’t deserve to.  
  
  
This ‘Hide’ ( _the name Kaneki used to mutter sadly to himself when staring at his phone, the name that made him feel the worst_ ) had pinned Kaneki down even though he couldn’t stand to stay in one spot. He’d kept Kaneki away even though his family was the only thing that kept him from tipping over the brink.  
  
  
He’d hurt Kaneki. He’d hurt her too, taking away the only person who could understand the darker thoughts that slithered through Hinami’s head on rainy days. Kaneki understood what it was like to want to lose himself.  
  
  
Hide had taken that away.  
  
  
**_She hated him.  
_**  
  
But…Kaneki had smiled. His eyes smiled, not just his mouth. He was holding her…and not letting go.  
  
  
An animal still lived in him, the one that understood her so well ( _flitting around the corners of Kaneki’s mind and keeping him safe_ ), though his gaze was clearer. He had called her little sister when he whispered in her ear. He called her family, warm and unguarded, and hadn’t immediately gotten hurt ( _rushing off to fight someone, rushing off to not eat, rushing off for the sake of rushing off and not sinking into the feeling of domesticity_ ).  
  
  
She loved Kaneki. She loved the parts of him that were horrifying, even though everyone told her that he didn’t want her to see them. She loved the parts of him that were gentle. She loved her big brother…  
  
  
So maybe, just maybe, she could forgive these strangers for taking him away.

  
~~~~~~

  
  
Koutarou was shifting nervously from foot to foot, trying to erase the shock from his face as Kaneki touched their visitors so easily ( _so intimately_ ) without flinching away in fear. Was it because they were ghouls? Was it because they had known him throughout his transition?  
  
  
Or maybe…it was because they were family.  
  
  
Hide and himself had never seen ‘big brother’ Kaneki before. They were something other than family to Kaneki. It was…well…  
  
  
Fuck.  
  
  
If possible, he had fallen even harder for Kaneki. It was like falling in love with him a second time, and judging by the starstruck look on Hide’s face, he was dealing with the same thing.  
  
  
This could possibly be Kaneki’s best feature: the soft expression on his face, the protective curl of his arms, the strength in his stance, and the determination in his eyes. He looked like he’d be willing to stand against an army for the people in his embrace.  
  
  
“Hide…”  
  
  
He whispered, nudging the gaping moron next to him ( _was he drooling a little bit!?_ ).  
  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
  
Hide whispered back, never tearing his gaze away from the reunion scene taking place.  
  
  
“This is the most attractive thing ever, isn’t it?”  
  
  
Koutarou said, suppressing a flinch when the little girl shot a glare in his general direction ( _did she hear that? Oh God, he hoped she hadn’t heard that_ ).  
  
  
Hide released a speculative hum before nodding slowly.  
  
  
“It is.”  
  
  
He agreed, continuing to nod,  
  
  
“It really is.”  
  
  
Koutarou wondered if he should take comfort in the statement, proof that he wasn’t weird, or if he should despair at thinking Hide wasn’t weird. Dedicating too much thought to it would require him to pay less attention to Kaneki nuzzling the older girl’s head affectionately, though.  
  
  
He decided not to think about it.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
Teasingly, Hide presented Touka with a flower ( _from his very own planter boxes!_ ) when they went to go talk in his room. Hinami ( _the mean little shrimp who punched him_ ) was hostile. She wouldn’t stop glaring at him, so he and Touka had left her with Kaneki and Koutarou.  
  
  
Koutarou clearly didn’t mind. He had been terribly curious about both of them, but Hide knew that it was Hinami he really wanted to talk to ( _once he knew who she was_ ). He knew they had met in the rain once, when Koutarou still worked with Mado, though Hinami didn’t seem to recognize him.  
  
  
Koutarou wanted to apologize and Hide wanted to talk to Touka, so everything was going pretty smoothly if he said so himself.  
  
  
Anyway, Touka hadn’t ground his flower into dust like he’d come to expect from her. She did give it a disgusted look, however. She’d quickly gotten down to business, expressing her feelings in an unexpectedly mature way.  
  
  
He’d always thought of her as a child: violent, emotional, and demanding. Hide knew she had good ‘negative’ insight, so to speak. She was good at identifying every bad thing someone had ever done, or every bad thing about a situation. He had thought it was the extent of her observational abilities.  
  
  
He had been wrong. She’d learned a lot since he saw her last ( _he should’ve paid her more attention_ ).  
  
  
She told him that she agreed with his choices, despite being upset about not being there herself. She expressed her fear of losing Kaneki ( _one that closely echoed his own_ ). She brought up the comfort they’d indulged each other in when Kaneki first went missing ( _those fleeting meetings that made him feel just a bit better…he really should’ve paid her more attention_ ).

  
She understood him, it seemed.  
  
  
How strange.  
  
  
Touka mentioned that he had changed a bit. His dynamic with Kaneki had changed somewhat ( _what gave it away was a mystery_ ). Almost as if testing her, he’d told her about their new situation:  
  
  
“I’m his bloodbrother, you know. His soulmate.”  
  
  
He stated bluntly, picking at his nails and letting a prideful smirk curl over his face ( _in the way she hated most…it still made her twitch, despite her calm_ ). In response, she lifted a challenging eyebrow, her tone coming out haughty as she said,  
  
  
“Blood? I have a blood pact with him. Isn’t that the same thing?”  
  
  
He barked out a laugh, waving away her words dismissively ( _a glitter of amusement dancing along his tongue_ ).  
  
  
“You bleed all the time, he bleeds all the time, but I only bleed when it’s special! Therefore, my blood means more. Also, I’m pretty sure I’ve swapped more blood with him than you.”  
  
  
He teased her, his gaze momentarily flitting to his slightly patchy arm ( _sometimes he longed to see it covered with knife scars that would mark the flesh he’d severed to feed his friend_ ). She rose to the bait immediately with,  
  
  
“Your blood probably tastes like Red Bull and candy bars because you’re just a snack. I’m his hero, you know.”  
  
  
Quickly, he tossed back,  
  
  
“I’ll have you know that snacks are the food items I value most! I’m delicious and friendly, unlike you. Also, who cares about being his hero? I’m his best friend! You only get to swoop in and save him from danger, not spend every day with him.”  
  
  
She growled a little, though there was a hint of laughter playing at the edges, and said,  
  
  
“You say rabbits die when they get lonely, so he feels obligated to spend time with you.”  
  
  
He mimed putting on a mask, arching an eyebrow and saying,  
  
  
“At least I don’t take my rabbit motif so literally, bunbun. If he feels obligated to spend time with me because of rabbits, then I guess we know why he hangs out with you!”  
  
  
She snorted for real this time, bringing up a hand to conceal the smile flickering across her face.  
  
  
“Shitty Hide.”  
  
  
“Shitty Touka.”  
  
  
They were jealous of each other, despite there being little to envy. Touka calling herself Kaneki’s sister somewhere in the middle of all their taunts settled something in Hide. He didn’t want to be Kaneki’s family ( _he wanted more than family_ ).  
  
  
The tension leaked out of him at last, and he patted the covers next to him, smirking at Touka.  
  
  
“Let’s arm wrestle for the right to call ourselves ‘blood’ whatever!”  
  
  
He declared, already knowing he was in for a world of hurt _(not that it mattered if he lost – he didn’t like the title brother that much anyway_ ).

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Seeing Hinami and Touka out the door, Kaneki had felt tears sting at his eyes. His fingers wound through Koutarou’s in an attempt to cover their shaking ( _he still didn't know anything about what they'd been doing and they hadn't talked about what happens next_ ).  
  
  
He’d be seeing them again soon, but he still hadn’t wanted them to leave.  
  
  
They hadn’t wanted to leave either, shooting lingering looks over their shoulders, however it had been the right time. Hinami needed time to herself ( _Koutarou’s apology had shaken her, though she seemed to actually like him pretty well_ ). Touka had to have some time to adjust as well.  
  
  
If he was being honest, Kaneki felt like he’d returned from the dead.  
  
  
They all went to bed early that night, curled up against one another on Koutarou’s big mattress ( _Kaneki plucked at loose threads in the stupid knight pajamas Hide insisted on buying Koutarou_ ).  
  
  
“I like your family.”  
  
  
Koutarou murmured, twining his legs together with Kaneki’s and dragging Hide over the both them ( _Hide had taken to flopping around in bed recently, acting like a blanket to the two much sturdier people underneath him_ ).  
  
  
“I missed Touka.”  
  
  
Hide chuckled dryly, rubbing at his clearly bruised arm ( _Kaneki didn’t even want to know what Hide had done_ ).  
  
  
“Thank you,”  
  
  
Kaneki whispered, squeezing his eyes shut in the darkness and focusing on the steady breathing of his companions,  
  
  
“For meeting them.”  
  
  
( _For trusting me_ )  
  
  
They each pressed against him in response, all soft lips and softer sighs.  
  
  
He fell asleep surrounded by warmth, knowing more of his family would visit in the morning.

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Yomo visited the next day, all alone. He came earlier than expected, but when Hide opened the door with a complaint on his lips, Yomo simply strode right past him.  
  
  
Silently, he passed Koutarou as well, making a beeline straight for Kaneki and gathering him into a stiff and awkward hug.  
  
  
“I’m proud of you, Ken.”  
  
  
He ferociously said, the shocking amount of unrestrained emotion in his voice causing Kaneki’s spine to straighten,  
  
  
“God, I’m proud of you.”  
  
  
The grip around his body quivered and Kaneki found himself returning the hug fiercely, even if Yomo stood completely straight and was almost impossible to embrace comfortably.  
  
  
“I thought you were gone. I told you to walk your own path and thought I had to accept that it might’ve killed you.”  
  
  
Yomo clearly had more to say, so much more that his eyes were overbright with his whirling thoughts, though he didn’t say much else on his visit. He spent it silently terrorizing Koutarou, who clearly didn’t know how to deal with stoic father figures without immediately acting out the good son ( _he tried to offer Yomo coffee, but Kaneki wouldn’t let him make it. Yomo was a barista that wouldn’t appreciate a subpar brew, despite Koutarou’s attempts at improving_ ). He completely failed to frighten Hide however, since Kaneki was convinced Hide could sense the awkward parental love Yomo was radiating with a disturbing amount of force.  
  
  
As Yomo went to leave, Hide tapped him on the elbow before he made it to the door. At Yomo’s querying ( _barely less than neutral_ ) expression, Hide let loose one of his thousand watt smiles and Kaneki felt his heart sink.  
  
  
“Should **_we_** be calling you _‘father-in-law’_?”  
  
  
Hide sweetly asked, doing his best to appear doe-eyed and innocent ( _damn him! Yomo was weak to small animals and embarrassing questions! Hide already knew how to play him like a fiddle_ ). Yomo’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth fell open as he struggled to form some kind of response ( _red slowly creeping up his neck, turning his face a ruddy colour Kaneki had never seen before_ ).  
  
  
“Fine.”  
  
  
He muttered, stalking out and slamming the door behind him.  
  
  
Kaneki gaped at the door like a fish and Hide turned a grin on him.  
  
  
“So, is Koutarou your wife or your husband? Personally, I consider myself the man of this house and-“  
  
  
“SHUT UP, HIDE!”

  
  
~~~~~~

 

Banjou’s crew arrived with someone he hadn’t been expecting yet. Nishiki lounged around in Kaneki’s kitchen as Banjou and the gasmask trio fretted over Kaneki’s…everything.  
  
  
“You look so much healthier! I hope you’ve been eating well!”  
  
  
“Have you been sleeping!? You look a little tired!”  
  
  
“Our great leader is alive! He’s aliiiiiiiiivvvveeeee!!!!!!!”  
  
  
“The salve worked then!? YES! YESSSS!”  
  
  
Needless to say, things were extremely boisterous. When they finally settled down, Banjou finally noticed Koutarou. Ever since Koutarou mentioning he’d met Banjou before, Kaneki had been wondering what his old friend’s reaction would be to a reunion.  
  
  
It went exactly like he thought it would.  
  
  
Banjou puffed up like a hissing cat, immediately roaring,  
  
  
“If you hurt him, I’ll kill you!”  
  
  
To a soundtrack of hysterical laughter as Banjou got close enough to Koutarou for everyone to realize that Koutarou was bigger than him. Taller, more muscular, and certainly more intimidating since he could actually fight.  
  
  
Hide stayed glued to Kaneki’s side as they sat back in awe, watching Koutarou proceed to win over the entire gasmask trio and their leader. Banjou and Koutarou were the exact same brand of endearingly boyish. It was hilarious, really.  
  
  
Nishiki managed to lurk his way across the room and he was currently lingering by the doorway.  
  
  
“Alright, I’m leaving.”  
  
  
He announced, abruptly turning on his heel to leave ( _one of Kaneki’s coffee mugs tucked inbetween his hands…he clearly had no intention of leaving_ ). Kaneki huffed, ducking out from under Hide’s arm around his shoulder and jogged over to Nishiki.  
  
  
“Nishio-sempai.”  
  
  
He said, placing a heavy hand on Nishiki’s shoulder ( _just enough to keep up appearances, to make it look like he was keeping Nishiki there_ ).  
  
  
“You didn’t die.”  
  
  
Nishiki flatly stated, his eyes shifting over every little detail of Kaneki’s face.  
  
  
“You fulfilled your promise, didn’t you?”  
  
  
He continued in the same flat tone, suddenly refusing to meet Kaneki’s gaze,  
  
  
“But you’re going to keep hunting, aren’t you?”  
  
  
A beat of silence passed between them. Kaneki could almost taste the moment Nishiki made a decision ( _he nodded to himself once, finally looking back at Kaneki_ ), speaking again,  
  
  
**_“So am I.”_  
**  
  
Kaneki nodded once, asking Nishiki to wait and glancing into the mug in his hands ( _empty_ ). He grabbed a canned coffee from the fridge ( _the kind that Hide drank_ ), and thrust it into Nishiki’s hands while sweeping away the coffee mug.  
  
  
Understanding coloured the barely-there smile lifting Nishiki’s lips before he turned away, stalking out the door and saying,  
  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
  
At the same time the door shut ( _as if he thought it would cover his words_ ). Kaneki laughed dryly, running his fingers through his bangs in exasperation. He could hear Koutarou’s gasp of surprise and Banjou’s tirade about Nishiki’s rudeness. This wasn’t something he could really explain without offending Nishiki.  
  
  
Hide though, his soulmate, squeezed his elbow and bumped his forehead against Kaneki’s shoulder.  
  
  
“He’ll be back, won’t he?”  
  
  
Hide surmised, staring meaningfully at the mug in Kaneki’s hands. Kaneki grinned, delicately placing the mug on the counter ( _careful to avoid Banjou’s flailing hand gestures_ ).  
  
  
“Of course,”  
  
  
He responded, his fingers running over the porcelain rim,  
  
  
“He owes me a coffee.”

  
  
~~~~~~

  
  
Tsukiyama was oddly absent. Kaneki knew that his…friend…would jump at the chance to visit him, especially considering how they had parted.  
  
  
Therefore, Hide hadn’t given him permission to come here.  
  
  
A little bubble of resentment rose in his throat at Hide’s behavior. Still, he knew he would see Tsukiyama again ( _perhaps too many times_ ). Hoepfully, he’d see him soon. He owed Tsukiyama an apology.  
  
  
Tsukiyama was someone who wanted more than just to eat him at the end. He was someone who needed friends. Kaneki had realized that too late, then left him too quickly. It probably hurt him deeply.  
  
  
Kaneki complained quietly to Koutarou in the exercise room, whining in his ears between feints and punches. For the most part, Koutarou was sympathetic, though Kaneki suspected he hadn’t wanted Tsukiyama around either.  
  
  
In fact, Koutarou was eventually so sympathetic that Kaneki realized something.  
  
  
He snuck up on Hide when he was making breakfast the next morning, asking a barrage of questions that couldn’t be deflected. Hide actually looked proud of him for figuring him out ( _Hide always wore an expression that was a bit too excited whenever Kaneki interrogated him_ ).  
  
  
“I left Akira hints. She's brilliant - there’s no way she hasn’t guessed we’re alive.”  
  
  
He had chirped, flipping an omelette in the pan and humming an off-key tune.  
  
  
“You figured out my last important secret. Now go get Koutarou to do something about it, hmm?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote about the tide is from a really talented piece of Dragon Age fanfiction called "The Arrowhead".


	35. Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All secrets eventually see the light of day.

The door was unlocked. Such a simple thing, yet it was consuming Hide’s thoughts. He’d opened the damn thing himself ( _rolling out of bed early, sneaking out from between Kaneki and Koutarou like this was some kind of secret_ ). It shouldn’t feel so….  
  


Kaneki’s eyes flicked between the long hall leading to the door ( _the dangling chain-lock swinging like an axe_ ) and his morning coffee. Koutarou was suspiciously silent.   
  
  
Clearly Hide wasn’t the only one lost in thought ( _the chain kept swinging like a ticking clock_ ).  
  
  
There was no real reason to have it unlocked. They weren’t leaving just yet ( _Hide wasn’t sure he wanted to leave at all_ ). It was just…  
  
  
Symbolic.  
  
  
It marked the true end to the visitations, to the careful talks ( _just barely skirting the work they had left to do_ ), and the rules they had here. Unlocking the door meant that the apartment was no longer a space **_no one_** could enter ( _or leave…God, he didn’t want to go_ ).  
  
  
It was just another place now ( _though Hide stubbornly wanted to cling, to stay wrapped up in his summer-scented rooms, eying the too-white furnishings for signs of blood or dirt or-_ ).  
  
  
“So…”  
  
  
Hide let the word stretch out into the space between them, filling the kitchen, and rolling down the hall to the unlocked door. His skin felt too tight. The urge to run hit Hide right in the chest and his expression must have revealed something because both Kaneki and Koutarou began frowning with concern.  
  
  
Sighing and scrubbing a hand over his forehead, through his too-long hair ( _a habit from Koutarou_ ), Hide fixed his gaze on the floor.   
  
  
“We need to talk…about what’s next.”  
  
  
He muttered. The words tasted like ash in his mouth, but Kaneki smiled tremulously, looking at Hide instead of the unlocked door. While freedom ( _loss of control_ ) weighed on Hide like a stone, Kaneki seemed ready to spread his wings ( _a phoenix reborn again and again while Hide was just-_ ).  
  
  
Unable to resist, Hide’s gaze shifted to Koutarou’s silent hunched form. He was still staring blankly at the door.   
  
  
Koutarou needed to reshape the world.  
  
  
Kaneki needed to do the same.  
  
  
Hide needed to…he needed…  
  
  
“So,”  
  
  
Hide said ( _hands clenching behind his back_ ),  
  
  
“What happens next?”

 

~~~~~~

 

“I was notified of some suspicious activity within the CCG before the Anteiku raid. There’s some strange manufacturing going on, odd use of…ghoul byproducts. People have been **_erased_**.”  
  
  
Amon growled, rubbing his knuckles harshly over his sternum. Hide’s sharp eyes tracked the movement and Amon self-consciously let his hand fall to the table ( _no one had been impressed by the bruises he sometimes stamped into his own skin_ ).     
  
  
“I want to investigate this. There’s also…”  
  
  
He paused as if recalling something, then bashfully dipped his head.  
  
  
“I, uh…Kaneki encouraged me to call…to call Akira. Uhm,”  
  
  
A short huff from Kaneki signaled him to get on with it. Amon let a small smile slip ( _it was cute when his lover got impatient_ ),  
  
  
“I talked to her last night. Since it was,”  
  
  
He waves a hand inelegantly at the door,   
  
  
“Work talk, I didn’t want to bring it up yesterday. She was angry.”  
  
  
Soft chuckles from Kaneki and Hide blended into a single mellow note. It eased the tension from Amon’s shoulders ( _though he knew they wouldn’t be laughing soon_ ),  
  
  
“The CCG isn’t doing anything with Kanou’s folder. It’s…Akira said it’s suspicious. That something is going on with the Washuu family. She’s started planning for my reintegration, though she implied I’m too stupid to keep a secret. I think she’s bitter that I didn’t tell her about the author-”  
  
  
Again, Amon’s speech was cut off. Kaneki had stiffened in his seat and was grimacing at his hands. Hide’s face switched from confused to positively delighted in a millisecond, leaving Amon in the dust ( _what-_ ).   
  
  
When he couldn’t catch Kaneki’s eye, Amon realized that they were going to finally learn some ghoul secrets ( _the kind Kaneki closely guarded with a guilty twist to his lips_ ).   
  
  
“The author was Takatsuki Sen, right?”  
  
  
Kaneki asked, ignoring Hide’s excited ‘I knew it!’ to quirk an eyebrow at Amon. Kaneki’s mouth twitched, opening then closing, as he waited for an answer ( _he always got like this when something wasn’t his story to tell…_ ).   
  
  
“Tiny lady, vicious intellect, writes depressing stories?”  
  
  
Amon replied, trying to reconcile what he knew of Kaneki’s favourite author with the woman who had thoroughly mocked and manipulated him. Somehow Kaneki’s book reviews made Takatsuki Sen seem…larger. Older, maybe?  
  
  
“She’s a born half-ghoul. The manager and a human woman, Ukina - her name was Ukina, had a child. Eto – that’s her birth name – is the leader of Aogiri Tree.”  
  
  
Kaneki’s tone carried a complicated undercurrent of hatred ( _admiration and-_ ) that caused Hide’s expression to darken.   
  
  
“The manager asked me to save her.”  
  
  
Kaneki stated, something disturbingly close to **_understanding_** running alongside the hate. Amon’s head spun with the implications. Aogiri Tree knew the CCG’s sordid secrets but weren’t using them. Instead, their leader had slipped through the scanners, a natural-born half-ghoul ( _her RC count had to be higher than Kaneki’s, didn’t it? How did she…_ ), and had hunted **_him_** down.   
  
  
“She’s seen us interact, hasn’t she?”  
  
  
Amon said slowly, brows drawing together as Kaneki winced.  
  
  
“Probably. The manager made it sound like she would be watching me.”  
  
  
Kaneki agreed, reaching out and grasping Hide’s white-knuckled hands.  
  
  
“ ** _She knows_**.”  
  
  
Amon whispered, absolutely horrified at the idea of this thing they had, this beautiful shining thing that he would never be strong enough to let go of, might be part of Aogiri’s grand plan. Shuddering, he lifted his gaze from his partners intertwined fingers to their eyes.  
  
  
Neither of them looked surprised.   
  
  
God, that alone was enough to make his stomach ache. This time he couldn’t afford to get dragged under the tide of other people’s ideas and machinations. This time ( _Mado, Kusaba, Harima_ …) he had to keep his people safe.   
  
  
“Koutarou.”  
  
  
Hide urged him onwards, reminding Amon that he wasn’t alone. Neither Kaneki nor Hide had been surprised. This time they would have the upper hand, right?   
  
  
Amon wrung his hands ( _at least they’d be on equal footing_ ) and took a steadying breath,   
  
  
“We’ll talk about that later. What I was trying to say was, well, Akira has a plan.”  
  
  
He drummed his fingers against the table ( _Akira always had a plan, despite being told he was dead, despite him abandoning her_ ),   
  
  
“I want to reintegrate myself into the CCG. She thinks we can…change things. From the inside, I mean. There’s…”  
  
  
( _There were a lot of names Akira had avoided and he just knew_ -)  
  
  
“The CCG lost a lot of people. It’s the perfect time to find out what it’s been hiding, change the minds of some recruits, and…”  
  
  
Before Amon could psyche himself up for what he wanted to say, Kaneki reached out for him ( _sad eyes, sad smile, always giving him deliverance_ ) and stated,  
  
  
“The world still needs the CCG. I know that, Koutarou.”  
  
  
A breath punched its way out of him as Amon squeezed his eyes shut ( _thank God_ ).   
  
  
Once he’d pulled himself back together, he noticed Hide’s mischievous expression. Quirking an eyebrow at him, Hide launched into a rambling list of possible contacts for ‘Operation: Commission of Cuddly Ghouls’ (o _f course he’d name Akira’s plan that. She was going to murder him_ ).   
  
  
As Hide steamrolled his way through an explanation of each person’s sympathies and skills, Amon let his mind wander in a previously unexplored direction. He’d always assumed Hide would stay with Kaneki ( _close enough to breath the same air and kill anyone who looked at Kaneki twice_ ) and had somewhat forgotten Hide’s connections with the CCG.   
  
  
He could ask for help, right?  
  
  
Once Hide paused for breath, Amon asked him,   
  
  
“Would you consider coming back to the CCG’s intelligence department?”   
  
  
Unsurprisingly, Hide had shot a look at Kaneki, clearly hesitant to agree to anything that would separate them. However, he then shot Amon a very similar look ( _guilty, longing, loving_ ) and Kaneki chuckled. Both men froze and stared at Kaneki incredulously.  
  
  
“Sorry, sorry,”  
  
  
He murmured ( _his cheeks jerking with suppressed amusement_ ),  
  
  
“You’re both just so cute sometimes. I know you’re worried that I’ll be alone, but I really won’t be. Anteiku is on my side. Personally, I’m more worried that **_you’ll_** be alone.”   
  
  
Hide’s hand twitched at the same time Amon’s did ( _reaching for the person who could be alone in a room full of his closest friends_ ) and Kaneki sighed. He stood, dragging Hide by the hand behind him, and beckoned Amon over to the couch. Without finesse, he tossed himself and Hide into Amon’s lap.  
  
  
“That table always makes me feel like I’m in lecture or something…”  
  
  
Kaneki muttered, wriggling a little so he could look both Amon and Hide in the eye while he talked.  
  
  
“Listen. The best plan is for you two to go together. Hide, if you do this you have an excuse to study ghoul psychology. Don’t you **_dare_** think I didn’t notice the books in your room or half the shit you’ve pulled since you found me. It’s like you think I’ve never seen a therapist in my life…”   
  
  
At that, Hide scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly and Amon snorted despite himself.   
  
  
“If you manage to get a degree, there’s something I might want to publish with you.”  
  
  
Kaneki said, curling his fingers into Amon’s belt loop ( _to anchor himself probably, since something like that sounded a lot like Kaneki was **going public**_ ). Before either of them could protest ( _though Hide had that little deranged light in his eyes again, so maybe it was only Amon_ ), Kaneki pressed onwards.   
  
  
“First though, there’s trouble I want to stir up. Trouble you can’t really help me with from the frontlines, but you sure as Hell can do something about from within the CCG. Nothing is concrete yet-“  
  
  
At the flash of anxiety he saw, Amon let his fingers tangle with Kaneki’s own belt loops while trying ( _failing_ ) not to bask in the grateful smile he received,  
  
  
“-I need to talk to Yomo about…about the future. I want to set things right and, uh, I love them and I know I can trust them but…I know the Anteiku folks have been withholding information from me.”  
  
  
Hide winced at Kaneki’s statement. He hissed,  
  
  
“I don’t want to leave you alone.”  
  
  
And was obviously smothering everything else he wanted to say ( _Hide didn’t like secrets that weren’t his or Kaneki’s or…maybe even Amon’s_ ).   
  
  
“He’ll be safest there.”  
  
  
Amon argued,  
  
  
“Investigators routinely poke through coffee shops. If we keep an eye on the ward it’s in…it’ll be the safest place for ghouls anywhere. We can visit without it being too suspicious. Though…”  
  
  
They couldn’t visit often. That much was obvious, however somehow he hadn’t…  
  
  
He hadn’t **_really_** thought about it. He had known. **_He had._** But…  
  
  
He hadn’t taken that information in and realized what it meant ( _an empty bed, Kaneki somewhere he couldn’t see, Hide tilting off his axis without balance_ ).   
  
  
He had to trust that Kaneki had, though. That Hide had. That they thought they could move forward anyway. That they knew Amon would have to go back to dirtying his hands ( _grit under the nails, smudges on dark shoes, dark socks, black doesn’t show the_ -) and that, while he would try his best, some people ( ** _Oh God, they were people_** ) would die and wouldn’t deserve it.  
  
  
Silence fell over them all. Kaneki and Hide tucked themselves into his chest, clinging to each other stubbornly, and Amon let the ugly things in his soul wash over him so he could bury them.   
  
  
Hide’s relationship with Kaneki would suffer less ( _no unjust **murde** r falling between them_) and he would be watched less than Amon ( _able to escape for a date, a quiet evening in a hidden bookstore, a movie…anything at all_ ). His disappearance had been less suspicious. He could lie better. It would be…easier.   
  
  
( _Except Hide’s mind was all kinds of fucked up, he would terrible things because of **what he was** , and Kaneki’s nails were black with the grit and sticky ooze Amon would **always** try to wash his of before touching him_ )  
  
  
( _What about that was really easier_?)  
  
  
( ** _Nothing_** )  


Shame curled inside of him. Amon tried to tuck it away, pulling his newfound family inwards to fill the spaces inside of himself with them.  
  
  
“I don’t want to be sorry for this.”  
  
  
Kaneki whispered, voice raw and unhappy ( _like it had been after so many nightmares about polluting a good man’s convictions, someone Amon wished he didn’t recognize as himself, because he **was** changing_ ).   
  
  
“I’m not.”  
  
  
Amon whispered back, using his left arm to shift Hide even closer to his other half. Hide stared at Amon for a second, letting a flicker of his vast ( _remorseless_ ) intellect show, before delicately kissing Kaneki’s forehead.  
  
  
“We won’t.”  
  
  
He promised. It was a lie, but it was one they could all live with.

 

~~~~~~ 

 

The lock on the door swung left ( _tick_ ) to right ( _tock_ ). The door was open and people from the outside world spilled in. So little time, but it was their time to take.  
  
  
To take and take until there was nothing left.   
  
  
Touka took her time ( _grains of sand in an hourglass_ ) with care. She gathered it into her hands, so gently compared to **_before_** , and kept it safe.   
  
  
“I’m studying biology now.”   
  
  
She had said, her eyes shining with hope despite all she had lost, and she had gestured for Kaneki to sit next to her on the couch ( _no longer pretending that she wanted to be alone_ ).   
  
  
“The commute is pretty long - I’m not going to Kamii…Yoriko can’t find me.”  
  
  
She continued sadly ( _however Kaneki heard the ‘yet’ in her statement and **he knew**_ ), pressing their thighs together despite the available space.  
  
  
“I want to understand the, I know it sounds…I don’t know, too difficult? But I want to understand the evolutionary links between ghouls and humans.”  
  
  
And before she even said it, Kaneki felt the impact of what was coming ( _it was written in the determined set of her shoulders, the way she studied her palms - right where Kaneki knew she had slashed them before_ ).  
  
  
“What I started even when I didn’t know it…what I passed onto you…what the Manager wanted…”  
  
  
He grabbed a hold of her wrist and tried to tether himself to the pulse that beat steady and true beneath her skin ( _always so steady, that was Touka, always ready to face what was coming_ ) as she continued.  
  
  
“I want to help you carry that legacy. But I don’t want to do anything I’ll have to be sorry for. I don’t want to keep killing until there’s nobody left to kill. I want to bridge the gap.”  
  
  
Could he have been like her once? Before the torture, before the losses (- _it’s better to be hurt-_ ), before he had fallen into destruction and revolution (- _believe we’re meant for_ -)…  
  
  
Could he have waged a bloodless battle? Written a memoir for all the ghouls that had been **_people_**?   
  
  
Touka squeezed his hand, her pulse steady and true, and he knew the answer was no. He hadn’t been the right person for that before ( _back when he’d called her a monster_ ). Now that everything had already rolled into motion, he knew there would be fighting he couldn’t stop.   
  
  
Kaneki was going to guide that violence – contain it. It was his choice.  
  


This was hers ( _he didn’t want to cheapen it by ignoring the history that brought her to this, the childhood of hunting and hurting, the losses she’d suffered…he didn’t want to pretend she was the saint he’d always wanted to be…he’d learnt that lesson with Rize already_ ).  
  
  
He pressed his lips to her delicate wrist ( _so much stronger than it looked_ ) and prayed for her to graduate quickly.

 

~~~~~~

 

It was actually difficult to watch Kaneki and Touka together. Though he relied heavily on Hide, Kaneki had often rushed off to do things alone throughout their childhood. Even their time in the apartment hadn’t completely broken him of the habit. The fact that Touka was like a port in the storm for Kaneki ( _his focus on the thin skin of her wrist_ ) stung him.  


When Kaneki’s eyes slipped closed Touka shifted her position protectively over him. Shielding him as Koutarou so often did ( _Hide sometimes wished he could be larger or stronger or just…something more_ ).   
  
  
A thought struck him, causing Hide’s attention to shift to Koutarou. His huge hands were gripped tightly behind his back ( _as if he were physically restraining himself from going to the couch_ ). Briefly, a moment passed between them of mutual understanding.  
  
  
They were both unexpectedly jealous.  
  
  
It only got harder to deal with when Hinami returned. Her discomfort with them both was obvious and her time was spent with Kaneki alone. Kaneki told them that she was starting school in the spring, told them how proud of her he was, and whispered about his worries ( _she talks about Aogiri sometimes_ …).   
  
  
Then Banjou offered to help protect the new café ( _Touka called it :Re with a little smile on her face meant only for Kaneki, damn it_ -) once he managed the situation in his old ward. Apparently the 6th was falling apart and Rize had entrusted it to him. He’d accepted Koutarou’s clap on the back with barely a stumble.  
  
  
Finally, Nishiki slunk into the place and had a hushed conversation with Kaneki in an alcove. Cannibalism…the word dripped out of his mouth like all the black thoughts Hide had hidden when he was young and full of hate. Eating your own kind made you lonely, made you **_other_** , and so Nishiki had distanced himself from :Re.  
  
  
Touka, barely batting an eye, simply swept into the room and said,   
  
  
“You still owe the manager, Shitty Nishiki. Pay it off with labour the way you were supposed to.”  
  
  
( _Kaneki watched her like she was a superhero, big sparkly eyes and all, and Hide was reluctant to agree with that assessment_ )   
  
  
( _Koutarou, the traitor, seemed just as awed_ )

  
~~~~~~

 

“I can’t agree with what you’re doing, Amon.”  
  
  
Akira sighed into her cellphone and buried her fingers into Maris Stella’s fur ( _perfectly groomed – not a hair out of place_ ). She listened to Amon’s breathing on the other end of the line and wished fiercely that she could see him.   
  
  
She couldn’t do that yet, though. She couldn’t be so trusting towards a man-made ghoul and his ragtag family ( _even if that family included her mentor and her best friend_ ).  
  
  
If Akira never saw them do anything wrong, never heard their plans in person, she couldn’t betray them when the CCG came knocking ( _and they would. She knew they would_ ).  
  
  
Right now, she would betray them. **_It would so easy_** ( _her fingers tightened and Maris Stella, darling that she was, nudged her face against Akira’s stomach and purred vehemently_ ). The losses suffered at the Anteiku Raid were still fresh and Amon still wouldn’t let her speak of them.  
  
  
(“ _I can’t know before coming back, Akira. It would…I would give away too much…I need to be steady right now_.”)  
  
  
“I know, Akira.”  
  
  
He replied, the warm **_pained_** pride in his tone throwing her off. He was always like this. Never logical, always trying, his respect falling like shackles over her hands and feet…  
  
  
“I’m actually glad you don’t.”  
  
  
No, he couldn’t be ( _could he_?). She snorted into the phone and memorized the tired chuckle she got in response.   
  
  
“You wouldn’t be Mado’s daughter if you agreed right away. Akira…you’ve always picked your own path, even when I was trying to guide you. You’ll do whatever you think is right…and if I’m wrong…you’ll stop me, right? I hope you do.”  
  
  
He confessed, his hope lying heavy in her chest ( _heavier than any weight he’d tried to take off of her_ ). This was something she could do for him. Something that might make her father proud.  
  
  
Akira wouldn’t betray either of the things he loved.

  
~~~~~~

 

Time flowed, sloshing over the edges of Kaneki’s consciousness, spilling onto the floor and evaporating. He hadn’t tried to hold onto it ( _like so many other things_ ). It simply ran over his skin unchecked ( _turning it golden with the sunlight from the window Hide had finally uncovered, stark against the white walls, white skin, and white bedding_ ).   
  
  
It was satisfying to let go without losing ( _or giving up_ ).  
  
  
The sheets were warm and a little damp underneath his bare back ( _Koutarou’s skin slick and wet as his hips rolled, Hide bitching about the laundry, Koutarou’s startled husky laughter_ ). Somebody’s toes were wedged painfully behind his knees and, as he breathed in, some of Koutarou’s hair tickled his nose. Everything smelled like stale sex and food.  
  
  
It was glorious ( _he would miss this_ ).  
  
  
“I love you both.”  
  
  
The truth of that feeling welled up in him to replace the time he had lost. Without waking, Hide pressed closer to him ( _jamming his frigid feet even harder into Kaneki’s skin_ ) and Koutarou’s long arms pulled them further onto his practically-a-mattress torso.  
  
  
Yeah, he would miss this. But he would come back to it eventually and could bask in it during this final hour.  
  
  
Soon, they had a tree to uproot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes @ myself for not updating in so long. I very genuinely do not have a decent excuse. :RE just became...kindof draining to read? Amon also totally disappeared lmao (though that Hide bit was A++++++). But hey, the fic is almost done! I've written the ending! Huzzah!
> 
>  
> 
> I've also written a weirdly large amount of prompt-based tokyo ghoul fics @ my tumblr page (under the tag 'drabbles') during the time I wasn't writing this. Hopefully that'll tide you over till the next update!


End file.
